


As If By Magic

by Ultra



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Episode: s01e12 Skin Deep, Episode: s01e14 Dreamy, F/M, Feelings, Romance, Romantic Friendship, Storybrooke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-16
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 17:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 32,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ultra/pseuds/Ultra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Belle knows love is the most powerful of magic and will try anything to keep hold of it; can Rumpelstiltskin really say he doesn't feel the same? (Starts in 'Dreamy', mixed with 'Skin Deep', then transitions into Storybrooke later)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally wrote and posted this fic elsewhere Aug-Nov 2012. It was my first 'full length' Rumbelle fic. Hope it gets some love over here, especially since my other OUAT fic seems to be getting a whole lot of kudos ;)

Belle wasn’t sure where she was going. For days she had been wandering almost aimlessly and seeking shelter wherever she could find it. Her head told her plainly she should head back to her own kingdom, back to the safety of her father’s castle. That was the general direction in which she was headed, she realised. She knew she would be perfectly safe since the ogres would leave their village alone, that was the deal. Unfortunately, it was not enough to sway her decision entirely and convince her that the castle she left months ago was really the home she belonged in.

Thoughts of the deal that took her away pulled at her heart strings now, the heart that wanted her desperately to turn around. The Dark Castle wanted to draw her back, but as encouraged as Belle was by her feelings of love for Rumpelstiltskin, she was sure any attempt she made to reconcile with him would end badly.

Poor Rumpel was so very stubborn, tried to be so very angry at her. Belle could not, would not believe that what he said was true. He did love her, only True Love’s Kiss could break such a curse as that which had turned a good man into a strange creature as he was. Inside he had the heart and mind of a human male, and Belle was sure he did love her, body and soul. Getting him to admit such a thing had proved pointless, and trying was as cruel to herself as to him, she had decided.

It was not that Belle had given up on love entirely. She believed that for others happiness in romance and companionship could be found. She had said as much to a dwarf she had befriended at a nearby tavern. They called him Dreamy, and she tried to encourage him to follow his latest dream and meet with the woman he loved. Whether or not they could be happy together, nobody would know, but the least people could do was try. Belle had tried her best with dear Rumpel, and he would have none of her affection. Her own love was doomed apparently, but still she hoped others would be more lucky.

Coming over the next hill, Belle was admiring the view a moment, wondering where she should go next, when she heard what sounded like crying. With a frown, she looked left and right, and only then realised the sound was coming from above.

“Oh,” she said with surprise as she spotted the fairy sobbing into her hands. “Are you alright up there?” she called up to her, knowing the question was a little pointless given the way she was crying, but not sure what else to say.

“No!” the fairy shouted back. “Leave me alone!”

Belle was quite taken aback, but apologised quickly and made to walk away before she caused further offence. Almost immediately she heard a further shout and then turned to watch the pink-clad fairy flutter down none too gracefully to land beside her.

“I’m sorry,” she sniffled. “I shouldn’t be so rude, I just... I don’t know what to do”.

She began crying again, and Belle felt quite heart-broken for her. The young woman had done her own share of sobbing into her hands these past couple of days, and it had done her no good at all. She had no-one to turn to with her own problems, but was determined this poor creature would not suffer the same fate.

“Perhaps if you told me what’s happened?” she suggested, putting a hand to her shoulder in a gesture of comfort and friendship. “A problem shared is a problem halved, so they say”.

“Maybe,” the fairy sniffed. “Though I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, especially human strangers,” she noted with some alarm at her mistake.

“Well, my name is Belle,” the young woman smiled kindly. “You know, if you tell me your name too, then we won’t be strangers anymore”.

The fairy smiled at the suggestion and nodded her head.

“Nova,” she said then. “My name is Nova,” she added, still sniffling somewhat from all her crying.

“Come, sit down, Nova, and tell me your troubles,” Belle encouraged her, taking a seeat on the hill and patting the grass beside her. “I’m sure they can’t be so very bad”.

Nova huffed at the suggestion as she sat down with a bump next to her new friend.

“Have you ever been in love with someone who refuses to be with you?” she asked grumpily.

Belle was of a mind to laugh at such a question, and yet there was hardly humour in either of their situations.

“Funny you should ask that,” she noted, watching Nova turn wide eyes upon her.

It would seem they were both involved with stubborn males that had left them with damaged hearts and tears enough to cry, though Belle suspected the fairy’s problems were at least slightly different to her own. There was only one Rumpelstiltskin, no other person, be they man or creature, could compare. Still, she was prepared to hear the tale her newest friend needed to tell, sympathising and helping as much as she could.

Belle listened intently as Nova told of her brief romance with the dwarf named Dreamy. She was only slightly surprised to realise it was the very same person she had spoken to in the tavern just a day or two before. She had encouraged Dreamy to reach for the stars, to go to his true love, to live in the moment. Clearly his conviction to do so had only lasted so long, and in the end he had chosen the safety of a life he knew over risking his heart for love. It was sad, indeed, but there was little Belle could say to make it better, except to sympathise with a situation she understood all too well.

“If it’s any consolation, I know how you feel,” she sighed when Nova’s tale was done, and the fairy sat blowing her nose into a hanky her new friend had provided.

“Did someone break your heart too?” she asked, and Belle looked forlornly at her own hands in her lap.

“I’m not sure it’s completely broken yet,” she admitted, “but it hurts,” she nodded. “I have some hope, I’m sure he does love me, he’s just... he’s afraid, I think,” she considered, thinking of her dear Rumpel and how badly he had reacted to her attempts to love him as she felt he deserved. “Afraid to get close, afraid to let his heart go. I suppose I understand why,” she considered, having thought about it almost constantly since the day she was turned out of the Dark Castle. “I just wish things had ended differently”.

“Me too,” the fairy beside her sighed much more heavily than one so dainty ever should.

It seemed they were both in a similar sort of predicament with no way out. They were in love with those that were unprepared to sacrifice their heart for a possibility of happiness. They chose the safety of what they knew best, a world they could thrive in. The seemingly flimsy promise of a happy ending was always a risk, and one neither Rumpelstiltskin nor Dreamy were willing to take apparently.

“Are you going to be alright, Nova?” asked Belle when the fairy suddenly seemed to realise the time and began preparing to leave. “You know I don’t think you should fly when you’re so upset,” she noted.

“I’ll be fine,” her new friend smiled slightly at the kindness. “I have to get this bag of fairy dust back home and... Oh!” she squealed so loudly and suddenly Belle physically jumped with the surprise. “I can help you!” she said with a  grin wide enough to split her face in two.

Belle wasn’t sure what to make of the fairy’s sudden change of mood, but she took it as a good sign. Maybe it helped Nova to think that she was assisting someone else, even if she couldn’t help herself. Unfortunately, Belle could not see how she would do such a thing.

“Fairies can’t grant wishes for themselves,” Nova went on to explain. “I can’t mend my own broken heart, but I can help with yours,” she smiled. “A little fairy dust and the right words, your guy could admit all that he’s feeling and you two could live happily ever after!” she declared joyously.

The corners of Belle’s mouth came up slightly at the sound of such a thing, though she could hardly believe it were that simple. Of course, she knew something of magic and curses. The fact that Rumpelstiltskin was the creature he appeared as now and no longer a man was because of such things. His saving her village had required a spell, and spinning straw to gold was magic indeed. Still, Belle could scarcely believe that she might wield a little of that power and make her dreams of love and a happily ever after finally come true.

“Nova, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” she shook her head delicately. “This dust is meant to be taken back to your home, and I wouldn’t know how to use it...”

“It’s fine! It’d only take a little!” the fairy insisted, encouraging Belle to open up her pocket and depositing a handful of dust from her bag into it. “All you have to do to use it is just make your wish and toss the dust on the person or thing that the wish is about,” she explained. “Oh, but don’t throw it on yourself because sometimes that ends badly,” she said with a look so suddenly solemn, that Belle dare not ask why!

She was still dubious about all this talk of fairy dust and magic but before she really had a chance to argue the point, Nova was making her excuses to leave. She thanked Belle profusely for her kindness, and the young woman winced then as she waved goodbye to her fairy friend, who hovered and dropped every few feet as if she might fall out of the sky.

When Nova was but a pink speck in the distance, Belle looked down into the pocket of her old blue dress that now sparkled with its filling of fairy dust. She would be a fool to believe it could work, that such magic could really fix her breaking heart and make things as she wished they were between herself and Rumpelstiltskin. She considered then that perhaps she would be more foolish still to turn her back on the chance of happiness. She was the one who convinced the dwarf they called Dreamy to live up to his name, to go forth and find the love and happiness he craved. Just because he had lost his nerve didn’t mean Belle had to, or else she was leaving Rumpel to suffer as Nova was. She could not be so cruel as he had tried to appear to her; she just had to try.

There was a spring in Belle’s step that had not been seen for days as she began hurrying back towards the Dark Castle. It wouldn’t take so long to get there, she might even borrow a horse on the way, perhaps be offered a ride in a carriage by some kind passer by. She had a renewed belief in goodness and kindness, in love and the good in all people and creatures. She headed down into the woods and had barely begun picking her way through the trees in the morning light when she was sure she heard horses hooves somewhere behind her.

Moving off the road for fear of being trampled, Belle looked back the way she had come, but saw no horse or rider. Still, she heard the thundering of hooves against the ground and looked in all directions to see who was there. Though the sun was rising, even a little way into the woods it was quite dark. Anything and anyone could be hiding in the shadows, and Belle pulled her cloak tighter around herself as she hurried along the edge of the road and then further into the trees that she felt would hide her from harm.

Belle thought of Rumpelstiltskin, of the magic that she held within her pocket, of how happily things could yet turn out to be. She focused only on these things and tried desperately to push aside the noises and shadows her own mind must have conjured, for there was nobody and nothing there to see.

It was just a minute or two later, too deep into the woods, that Belle realised her vast imagination had not played quite as many tricks as she first thought. A strong arm grabbed her by the waist from behind, and a hand covered her mouth before she could even scream. She struggled and kicked, all to no avail, feeling that the very breath was being squeezed out of her. All at once the world began to grow darker, a piece at a time, and then was entirely black.


	2. Chapter 2

Rumpelstiltskin was in pain, the kind of pain he had supposed he would never feel again after that awful day when he lost his beloved son. Baelfire had been his whole world and he had done all he could to save him, taking on the power of the Dark One in order to keep the boy safe. That plan had backfired and for years now Rumpel had lived alone in the Dark Castle, cold and intimidating as the stone walls that surrounded him. He liked his own company, he got along just fine all by himself, and never thought to want or need anyone as a permanent fixture in his life; then she had come along.

Making a deal with King Maurice had been a jolly jape. He was not sure he would go for such a bargain, handing over his beloved daughter to save his village. Rumpelstiltskin might have thought the king a better man had he refused the offer, but all humans had their weaknesses, and they were usually connected to those they loved. Rumpelstiltskin had loved nothing and no-one but himself and his own power for so long, he almost ceased to understand what love could do, what it was capable of. Belle had reminded him.

A caretaker, it was all she was to be. Rumpel never thought much about gaining a friend into the bargain, but the girl was such a mystery to solve. So sweet and fragile in appearance, but so fiery and passionate on the inside. She was wary in the first few days, but such apprehension faded fast from that first moment when she panicked over a dropped cup, to the point where she would make jokes at his expense without a care.

She changed during her time at the Dark Castle, and she changed him too. Rumpelstiltskin remembered what it was to have friendship, companionship, and before too long, to feel love. Belle was a young woman of beauty and passion, not suited to life bound to a dark creature such as himself, and yet there was a dream in Rumpel’s head, a longing in his heart. The happily ever after that she spoke of when her lips touched his, it was pretty enough. Falling into her trap would have been so easy, whether it was supposed to be harmful or not. True Love’s Kiss broke any curse, and his own he would not, could not give up for her.

He had forsaken her. His poor beloved Belle who he had turned out of the castle and banished away before the worse should happen to either one of them. Now the worst truly had happened to her and not at his own hand as Rumpelstiltskin might have feared. Her father, her disgusting wretch of a father who was so afraid of letting her leave with ‘the beast’. He had been so much more cruel to her than Rumpel himself could ever have been. He had turned her life into the kind of hell that made poor Belle crave the end. Now she was gone, forever lost from the world, and it broke the heart Rumpelstiltskin had been so sure he no longer possessed until he met her.

Screaming and crying did no good, the throwing about of things was no remedy now as it had been before in his anger. He had destroyed anything and everything, but one lone item that he would always hold dear. Rumpelstiltskin sat at his spinning wheel staring at the chipped cup on the stand across the room. Belle had been right, so perfectly right, when she walked out that day. She told him he would end up with nothing but an empty heart and that chipped cup and she was perfectly correct.

Turning away from the keep-sake that both comforted and taunted him now, Rumpelstiltskin began to spin the spinning wheel, passing straw through his hands that emerged as pure gold. It brought him no joy, and this time around he was sure it would not help him to forget. Belle was unforgettable and because of her his heart was not so much empty as it was shattered into a million pieces.

* * *

Belle had woken just a couple of hours ago to find herself far away from the woods that she had been walking in. She recalled very little of what had happened at first, but severe concentration had led to her remembering the fuzzy details of her being captured.

She had been headed for the Dark Castle, to see dear Rumpel and make amends. Walking alone in the forest, she knew it was a dangerous occupation when alone and unarmed, she had learnt that the hard way after her first encounter with Queen Regina. Still, she had thought herself powerful and safe with her pocket full of fairy dust and love in her heart. Such things ought to make her invincible, so she thought, and yet Belle had been proven horribly wrong.

A darkness had come upon her in the forest, a magic perhaps or maybe just a person stronger than she, rendering her helpless and ultimately unconscious. She had come to on the cold stone floor of a dungeon cell, so much more dark and dank than her so-called room in Rumpelstiltskin’s home.

Belle called out into the darkness, hoping to hear the voices of fellow prisoners, and at the same time glad when no response came. Though she was an innocent and was sure she should not be here, she was suddenly very aware of the fact that the Queen’s other so-called enemies might be as bad and evil as Regina herself.

Alone in the cold and dark, Belle tried in vain to prise apart bars she would never be able to conquer, before retreating to the back corner and hiding herself away. With her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, she found the vaguest hint of warmth and waited. There had to be a reason why she was here, and no doubt somebody would come and tell her what that was before long. Rumpelstiltskin had said he thought the Queen was trying to use Belle against him, and perhaps now he had been proven right.

To use true love as a weapon seemed like the most cruel trick Belle had ever heard of. She did not want to believe anyone capable of such a thing, but now the Queen had taken her away and locked her up in here, it was hard to believe anything else was true. Perhaps she really was as evil as the rumours said.

“Well, well,” said a voice in the dark, and Belle already knew the very woman she had been thinking of was approaching, despite the fact she could see nothing in the dark yet. “Our dear sweet sleeping beauty is awake at last”.

Belle was up on her feet the moment she saw the Queen’s smug and smiling face beyond the bars.

“Why have you brought me here?” she asked crossly, gripping the bars between them and pushing herself into the evil woman’s face as much as she could. “What do you want from me?”

Regina laughed, actually it was more of a cackle, that made Belle flinch away with distaste and just a hint of fear. Rumpelstiltskin had not been specific about the Queen’s power but she had to think it was vast. Perhaps she had been foolish to fling herself at the bars and be so demanding, but then she had been afraid the first day she had arrived at the Dark Castle, and that had turned out alright for the most part. She always spoke of wanting to be brave, now she must prove it once again.

“You are adorable,” Regina smiled slowly. “I can see why Rumpel was so taken with you. Not as docile and boring as the other girls”.

“You can’t keep me here,” said Belle, sticking out her chin.

The very mention of Rumpelstiltskin gave her the strength to stand up to the evil Queen at least a little. He had powers of his own, surely he would figure out where she was and come for her? And yet she had to wonder. Though she was sure of his love, he was not so quick to admit it. Days might pass without him taking any action to find her, and then he was liable to start at her old home. By the time he came to find where she was, the Queen might have done anything to her. Belle swallowed hard at the thought.

“You know the strength in you will only be entertaining for so long,” Regina told her, her smile twisting into something far less pleasant as she peered in through the bars. “Besides, I can smell the fear on you. Your resolve to stand up to me will only last so long. Down here, alone with only your thoughts, you’ll waste away soon enough,” she waved a hand in dismissal of the girl and turned to go.

“No,” that one word from Belle’s lips stopped the Queen in her tracks. “I may not possess such power as you, but I know one that does,” she explained. “Rumpelstiltskin will not forsake me. It may take time, but I believe he will realise what you have done, and he will come for me”.

Regina’s evil laugh put in a second appearance, and poor Belle shuddered at the sound of it. The strange cackle belonging to the one she loved was never so cruel.

“My dear child,” the Queen  told her, turning back but for a moment. “He will not come for you. He won’t even begin to look,” she said as she came closer once more and put her whole face through the bars to sit just an inch from Belle’s own. “He thinks you’re dead,” she said coolly.

Before Belle could react, Regina gave a flick of her hand, and the poor young woman felt as if a powerful punch had struck her across the face, knocking her easily to the ground on her backside.

Regina left then, perhaps on foot or in a swirl of magic, Belle could not really tell. All she knew was that she was alone in the darkness again, lost and in pain. Tears filled her eyes and poured down her pale cheeks as she realised all hope could well be lost. Poor Rumpel believed she was dead, he would never think to come for her. Oh, and what he must be suffering, perhaps even feeling guilty, blaming himself for her coming to harm.

It broke Belle’s heart in two to think of it, and yet crying would do no good. She had to find a way out of this place and back to the one she loved. Regina could not keep two people so in love apart, Belle was sure of it. Finding her strength of character adorable was insulting. The Queen would find her far more of a royal pain than she ever expected, Belle was determined on that.

Scrambling to her feet, she raised the edge of her apron to wipe her eyes dry, only noticing then the sparkling of gold within her pocket. The fairy dust! She had almost forgotten it in all the confusion. Nova had given it to her to use with Rumpelstiltskin, to help him admit his feelings of love, and yet such a thing was useless if she could not get to him.

Staring into her pocket, Belle made a quick decision. Half the dust to escape this place, the other half for Rumpel’s unwilling heart. It might work yet. Nova had been unspecific about the amount of dust needed per wish, and in any case she had to try.

Taking a deep breath, Belle dipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out half the dust. She could not use it on herself, Nova had warned against such things, and so springing the lock on the dungeon door would have to do. The Queen probably never considered that Belle could even get half way out of her castle, she just had to hope that her wish to escape would carry her the rest of the way without incident.

“I wish to be free of this place,” she said, eyes closed in concentration, before flinging the handful of fairy dust at the locked and bolted bars of her prison cell.

All at once the door did not just open, but was gone completely, and Belle wasted no time in wondering at the magic. She smiled as she ran full pelt through the newly made gap in the bars and down the stone hallway, amazed that she found no guards waiting to re-capture her, no further doors and bars to guard against her escape. Down the tunnel, up the steps, she peered out carefully to ensure the coast was clear and then took off running once again.

How she ended up outside the castle walls without so much as sighting a person that might stop her, Belle would never know. She believed it must be the magic of the fairy dust or perhaps just pure damn luck. She would not question either thing. All she knew was she was free, as she had wished, and if she could just make it to Rumpelstiltskin’s Dark Castle, she would be okay, she would be home and safe. It was all she wanted.


	3. Chapter 3

Spinning to forget had always worked for Rumpelstiltskin before, and yet when it came to Belle he had doubted it would. He had lied to her when he pretended that Baelfire had slipped from his mind during his eternal task. Of course a person loved and lost could never be so easily cast aside by anyone, not even a creature as dark as he.

It was but a few short days since Belle left the Dark Castle at Rumpelstiltskin’s own instruction, and yet it felt like a lifetime had passed. First he wondered if she might try to return, which would not make him unhappy, though he was the one to order her out. Then he considered giving chase, trying to track her down and bring her back, angry because she broke their deal. He could destroy her entire village or rather ensure the ogres did since she was now gone from the castle. The fact he told her to go was mere details, a trivial thing that someone as powerful as he could easily wriggle out of. Then had come the crashing blow that Belle would never come back, by her own means or otherwise, because she was dead.

Rumpel felt like he ought to have known, that he ought to have felt her loss before he was ever told of it. Surely when two people felt true love for each other, they ought to be bound tight enough to simply know when the other was no longer of the world. He had tried to deny he felt anything for her, of course he had. It was out of necessity, out of pride, for a hundred reasons he might explain and a hundred more he never could. It didn’t mean he didn’t feel. The scaly looking skin and dark power within him hid the man from view, but he was still there, buried deep. There was a heart inside of Rumpelstilstkin’s goblin-like body, and it could love. He barely believed it himself until it was too late, until it had happened and he had fallen for his beautiful brave Belle.

Now she was gone, and he had already shed tears over her, destroyed furniture over her. There was no point to any of it. She was done for this world and he went on, had to go on, there was no other option. Rumpel tried to fool himself that moving on would be easy but with each passing hour that turned into days, he realised he was so very wrong.

Getting up from the spinning wheel, he wandered over to the plinth that held the chipped teacup that now meant so much. He picked it up as gently as butterfly wings, though his fingers were gnarled and bore sharp nails like a beast. Dear sweet delicate Belle had not seen a monster when she looked upon him, not at the end. She saw the man inside that even Rumpelstiltskin himself had believed to be long gone. Not so, apparently.

A loud rapping on the front door startled the usually highly-aware Rumpel into almost dropping his precious cup on the floor. He cradled it close to his chest a moment, letting out a breath of pure relief before placing the cup carefully back in its rightful place. A sneer came to his face then, angry as he was at the intrusion of visitors when he was mourning the loss of one so dear. If this was Regina again, he swore to skin her alive on sight, though he doubted so much that she would bother to knock, she never had before.

Sweeping his arms out wide, Rumpelstiltskin flung the doors to the room open, and then the next set til he reached the front door, upon which someone was beating their fists as if desperate. That at least made Rumpel want to smile a little. Desperate souls were of use to him. A profitable deal could almost always be struck in a person’s hour of need.

Flinging wide the large wooden door to the castle, Rumpelstiltskin was not overly surprised when the person on the other side came tumbling in, practically landing in a heap at his feet. What did shock him to the core was the realisation of who the young woman there on the ground appeared to be.

“You are here,” she gasped, as she peered up at him, smiling through what appeared to be exhaustion and pain.

“Belle?” Rumpelstiltskin was troubled by the sight of her, and not just because she was muddied and bruised.

This couldn’t be real. Regina had said, with no small amount of glee, that his beloved Belle was dead and gone. It looked distinctly as if the torture she was supposed to have suffered was real, and yet he had to wonder if this was even Belle at all.

“It is me, Rumpel,” she assured him as she fought to pull herself to her feet and then reach for him.

Rumpelstiltskin moved back a step quickly, putting up a hand to make her stop.

“No,” he said firmly. “You are not Belle. You are one the Queen’s evil tricks, come to play games with the mind of the Dark One!” he told her angrily.

Belle felt positively sick. After all she had been through, all she had suffered to get back here, and still dear Rumpel seemed to believe she was a traitor. If she did not know his untrusting temperament, the reasons for his suspicions, she might be thoroughly offended and run screaming in the opposite direction. The truth was, he had suffered too. He had learnt to be guarded and careful, even though he had more power than most or even all the other people or creatures of any kingdom in the land.

“I would never work for the Queen!” she cried desperately, stepping forward and watching him step back again.

She might think him afraid of her rather than how they had begun much the other way around. She had him backed up inside the castle within three steps, and though he continued to shy away and stare at her strangely, he had yet to throw her out or bar a door against her. Belle took that as a good sign.

“She did this to me! She had me captured and locked up in her dungeon! I thought I should never see you again!” she told him, tears in her eyes that she couldn’t stop from coming. “You know it is me, I know you do,” she insisted, watching him watching her with narrowed, troubled eyes.

Rumpelstiltskin genuinely was not sure what to make of this. To call Belle a liar was to make Regina the bearer of true and shocking news. It would be easier to believe his beloved girl was here, that the Queen had tried once again to pull the wool over his powerful eyes with her tricks. Searching deep inside himself, Rumpel reached out with the full strength of the power he possessed, eyes closing momentarily as he concentrated. Belle was almost certain she felt a breath of wind breeze pass her, and then he opened his eyes and smiled, albeit only slightly.

“It is you,” he declared, certain of it now as he was certain of anything apparently.

It thrilled Belle that he would even believe she were real, though it was a small step to be taken on a very long journey yet. The front door boomed loudly as it closed behind her, though Belle did not jump at all, she was focused only on what Rumpel would say or do next.

“Come in,” he urged her to follow as he backed up through the doors, locking them behind her as she came, until they were back in the main hall of the castle where his spinning wheel and the precious chipped cup lived on.

“I am so glad you believe me,” Belle told him, trying not to cry but finding the relief more difficult to control than her previous pain. “I was sure you would eventually. The Queen is not stronger than true love”.

Rumpelstiltskin flinched at the sound of those words though he could not quite keep the smile off his face. He had never felt so conflicted the whole of his days, human and creature both. Belle was not dead, but very much alive and here, and apparently in love with him. These things should please him, they did please him, and yet he was as angry as he was happy.

Regina still had her plans to use Belle against him. She had come here with tales of the young maiden’s torture and death, made Rumpel believe King Maurice was the one at fault. Instead she had taken the girl herself, locked her away and punished her for being fool enough to love a beast like him. It was only when Belle reacted to it that Rumpel realised how much of his thoughts had spilled out of his mouth unbidden. Striding around the room, he had muttered out all of this, amongst obscenities and threats enough to shock her.

“Please, Rumpel,” she urged him, getting in his path as he started another circuit around the table. “Please, do not give in to anger. You were right, the Queen wants to make you weak, she wants to use me against you, but we don’t have to let that happen,” she swore, her hands at his shoulders. “I am willing to fight for our love, and I wish... I wish you would tell me the truth of your love for me and fight for it too,” she said firmly.

Rumpelstiltskin hardly noticed her hand slip to her pocket until she flung something at him. The cloud of dust made him cough and splutter as it covered his face. He pushed her away as he tried to clear his eyes and nose of the wretched powder.

Belle held her breath, waiting for the outcome she so longed for, waiting to hear her dearest love tell her that he felt the same. Her heart threatened to break in her chest when instead she heard a cackle of maniacal laughter erupting from inside the lessening cloud of fairy dust.

“Foolish girl!” he said, disappearing and reappearing in a flash behind Belle and startling her to no end. “You think you can use that wretched stuff on me? My power is more than you can begin to imagine!” he yelled in her face, backing Belle up against the tables edge and leaning over her. “You cannot love me! I cannot love you! What did you think you were doing?!”

“I was fighting for what I believe in!” she yelled back at him, determined that after all she had been through, she was not going to back down now. “And you can try to frighten and bully me, but you can’t change what you feel. You might be immune to fairy dust, Rumpelstiltskin, but I will never believe you are immune to love!” she told him, finding a strength inside to even rival his own as she pushed him aside and walked away.

The Dark One was astounded. He had not imagined such ferocity could come out of his little Belle. She had strength of character and of heart, this he knew and admired, but to be so angry, so vicious. There was not a hint of fear left in her when she looked at him. She fought back without a care. It could be she felt she had nothing left to lose anymore, and yet, Rumpelstiltskin had to wonder, was she actually just this brave because what she said was true?

It ought to be impossible for a beauty to love a beast. It ought to be impossible for a beast to love at all, and yet... and yet there was still a man’s heart beating inside the monster, and on it a five letter name engraved forever.

“Belle,” he spoke cautiously, like a child afraid of being struck for talking out of turn. “I am sorry,” he told her gently, reaching out a hand that could never touch her at such a distance.

“You should be,” she shot back over her shoulder. “You punish me for being in love, you punish yourself!” she told him crossly as she turned back to look at him with her arms folded over her chest. “I don’t understand!”

Rumpelstilitskin sighed a heavy sigh.

“Of course you don’t, dearie,” he relented, hardly looking at her at all. “You do not understand what cannot be explained,” he told her sadly.

It was true. There was no way for an innocent young girl to understand a century of pain and curses and war, no matter how much fire in her belly or love in her heart. Rumpelstlitskin had no way to tell her all that was coming, and would not want to burden her with it even if he could. Still, he had no doubt of her affection for him, however misguided, and with the Queen out to get her, he knew he must keep her safe, or forever loathe himself in this world and the next.

“Love does not live here, sweet Belle” he told her sadly, “but sanctuary, that could be found”.

His offer confused her, it confused him too for he knew the pain it would ultimately cause. Two people in love who must live together but never be truly close, it was tragic in the extreme, but their options were limited.

“What are you saying?” the poor girl asked with a look of pure confusion.

“Still need a caretaker for this rather large estate,” Rumpelstiltskin echoed words he had used when they first met, trying so hard to lighten the mood of a situation more dark and dank even than the castle in which they stood.

Belle was too busy considering his offer to catch the reference to an earlier conversation. She must love Rumpel from a distance as before, but she would have his companionship as well as his protection. There would be no worry of the Queen coming after her again. Things would not be so very bad, even if her heart must be locked in a box inside of her, and never spoken of.

“We would be as we were before?” she checked she understood the agreement. “Before we...?”

“The original deal, as originally struck,” he cut in quickly, a snap of his fingers punctuating the words he said before she had a chance to speak her own that would pain him.

“Very well,” Belle agreed with a single nod and an extension of her hand to shake on the reaffirmation of the old deal made months ago.

Rumpelstilskin reached tentatively to take her fingers with his own for all of a moment, and as they let go within seconds, both knew they must not touch even this much again if they were to keep their bargain. It was Belle that spoke the words she expected from him that never came this time;

“The deal is struck.”


	4. Chapter 4

Something in the air had shifted, and Rumpelstiltskin felt it more keenly than anyone else. The Queen had been working overtime on her plan and the curse she had threatened to cast over all the land was closer than anyone suspected. Rumpel knew; he knew and he had plans of his own, though he told no-one of them, not even his dearest Belle.

Having her back here was both torture and pleasure at the same time. Never before had Rumpelstiltskin so fully understood how pleasure and pain entwined, but she was his education in it. Of all the torturous things he had allowed others to suffer, by causing the trouble or allowing it simply to happen, nothing those insignificant people suffered could ever be as bad, but the deal had been struck, and never let it be said that the Dark One went back on a deal.

The girl was as good as her word. Since returning she had completed all the tasks he had given her the first time around and without complaint. His castle was clean, his clothes laundered, his meals cooked and brought punctually. He never did have any problems with her service, and that had not changed. What was different was how her presence affected him, how just knowing she was here in the house could throw him off balance. It was dangerous to have her so close, especially with the time of the curse at hand. He needed all his powers in concentration to be on this one thing, but the distraction must be borne as best it could.

Belle needed sanctuary. Regina would come after her again if she were to stir out of doors and so she had not left the estate these past few weeks, and hid herself away whenever anyone came calling.

Rumpelstiltskin was no fool. If the Queen wanted to know if Belle was still alive, she would. She had her ways, perhaps not quite as powerful as his own, but she had them all the same. The only reason she had not come after the girl again was because it meant facing off with her friend-turned-enemy in close quarters. Better for her to work on her little curse, her plans to bring panic, confusion, and pain to the lovely Snow White and all that cared for her.

A tap on the door caught Rumpel’s attention and he flinched at the sound. Since he and Belle were the only two to live here, it was always her whenever his attention was called for.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, but dinner is served,” she called through to him, without ever opening the door.

“I shall be down momentarily,” he called back, and waited, listening to her soft footsteps tip-toeing back down the stone staircase.

There was no reason for him not to go right now, but that would mean spending an extra few minutes in the company of the dear girl. She was so innocent, in spite of the fire she showed in her eyes and heart when she faced him and demanded he listen. It took courage to stand up to a creature such as he, but she showed no fear, and since then, no remorse for the way she behaved. At this point, he could hardly doubt the love she professed to feel, though as promised, she spoke nothing of it since her return. They had their new deal and they both must stick to it, for reasons far beyond anything he could ever explain to her.

It would do no good to begin, Rumpel knew. To explain would frighten her. To try to save her mind as he was sure he could save his own would be beyond dangerous. To tell her what was coming without being able to help her would be a kind of cruelty even the Dark One himself would not sink to, not where the woman he loved was concerned.

Either way, he must face her now, a more fearsome thing than ever the Evil Queen might be to him. Rumpelstiltskin had nothing to fear with Regina, he knew where he stood, and in terms of magic it was high above her head. Belle had far more power over him, though she hardly knew it, he supposed. She probably thought having to keep her distance from him was the most awful trial to endure. Rumpelstiltskin was sure his pain was worse indeed, but he would never speak of it.

Down in the main hall, Belle checked the table setting one more time, then lifted the lid on the plate and checked she and remembered everything, that the food was still hot, that there was nothing that she could be reproached for. Then she hurried back to the kitchen before Rumpelstiltskin ever made it down to dinner.

Though she hated the fact she hardly ever saw his face or heard his voice anymore, it was less painful than having to face him and never get closer than a generic civilised conversation. Here she was safe and cared for, but she was not properly loved and was not at liberty to show how she felt either. They had struck this deal, she could not and would not go back on it, but it hurt nevertheless, and she feared it always would.

“Foolish girl, thinking you were so brave,” she muttered to herself, pushing her hair back off her face with her wrist then dunking her hands back into the water to wash the cooking pots. “Bravery and sacrifice mean nothing if you can’t have love,” she reminded herself, biting her lip to as not to cry.

Of all situations she could find herself in, this had to be the worst. She had been so fearful of how things would turn out when she chose her fate and made a deal with the devil-like Rumpelstiltskin. She could not have known then that the apparent beast was but a man in a mask, or that even when she had won his deep-buried heart she must still keep her distance.

She gave up asking why they must not be close, why if he cared for her as she was sure he did, he would not show it, prove it. He claimed she would not understand and yet gave her no chance to try, and so they both lived in this limbo state, not apart but not together. It was agony every day, and yet they went on, Belle wondering if it would end, and Rumpelstiltskin sure it would, and perhaps much sooner than expected.

* * *

“Ouch!” she exclaimed as she caught her finger on something sharp in the sink.

A trickle of red ran down her finger, looking much worse than it was thanks to the soapy water from her washing up. The offending item that had hurt her was pulled out of the suds with her other hand and examined closely. Lo and behold it was the same chipped cup she had almost cut herself on several times before over the months she had worked here in Mr Gold’s house. For the life of her, she could not figure out why he kept the damaged china and he never would explain no matter how many times she asked, save to say that just because something is a little broken does not mean it wasn’t worth holding on to.

Grabbing some paper towels, she dried her hands and wrapped up her bleeding finger before heading for the bathroom to hunt down the band aids. She was half way up the stairs when she realised she was not the only one in the house.

“Rose?” Mr Gold reacted with surprise at seeing her there.

He was usually gone to work by now and they never ran into each other at this time of day, but then perhaps she had been early, she wasn’t sure anymore.

“Excuse me, Mr Gold. I just needed to go up to the bathroom and get a plaster from the cabinet,” she told him warily, mindful of his temper that could appear at a moment’s notice.

“You hurt yourself?” he asked, almost as if he were genuinely concerned, though Rose shook off the strange feeling it evoked and waved away his concerns.

“It’s just a tiny nick,” she assured him, but as she moved to slide by him, he caught her arm.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” he told her with one of those intense looks of his that never failed to stick her to the spot.

Rose nodded dumbly and allowed him to accompany her up the stairs. It wasn’t that she disliked her employer exactly or that she was afraid of him either. The fact was, he had never really given her cause to dislike or fear him in all the time she worked for him. It was the nature of her work and the reason for it that made her wary.

Mr Gold owned a debt that Rose’s father Moe could not pay. To save him from whatever devious methods Gold might have used to otherwise extract funds from her father, Rose had agreed to play maid in Gold’s house and occasionally help out in his pawn shop. It was okay, she needed a job of work, and by taking the most meagre of wages, she paid back her father’s debt a piece at a time.

She had been surprised when Gold even suggested the plan, sure he would be far more interested in tearing off knee-caps than making mutually beneficial deals, and yet here they were, Rose playing housekeeper and shop assistant both to keep her father out of trouble and Mr Gold off his back.

“Sit down,” Gold instructed Rose as they reached the landing, and she dropped down into the chair he gestured to, just inside the door of the spare bedroom.

Opening her mouth to speak further, she realised he was already gone, and that she honestly wasn’t sure what she would say in any case. This seemed like an awful lot of fuss over something so simple. Though the cut on her finger was bleeding a fair bit, it wasn’t so very bad. Besides which, Rose had never known her employer be quite so helpful and friendly as this. Not that he was exactly the beast some people thought, at least not with her. The whole time she had worked with him, Gold never made a threat to her nor ever raised a hand in anger. He shouted sometimes, and mostly when it was not her fault, but Rose took it all in good temper, knowing that walking out was not really an option when her father still owed money.

“Here, give me your hand,” Gold was back and demanding her attention, quite startling Rose who had been letting her mind wander the whole time he was gone.

Suddenly, he was knelt before her, awkwardly on his one good knee, as he cleaned up her blood smeared hand and applied a sticking plaster to the cut.

Rose felt strange, quite silly actually, to be doted on in such a way by her employer. Of course, she didn’t think of him as only the man she worked for, they even acted like friends sometimes, talking about other things that were not strictly business. Still, he never showed her so much kindness and care. Perhaps it was only that she hadn’t needed it until now, or perhaps Gold had fallen and hit his head last night and was now completely crazy!

“There, all done,” he said at last and looked up just as she reacted to his voice.

Their eyes met and a strange feeling went right through Rose. Something familiar, something warm and strange inside. It was enough to make her breath catch in her throat, to make her grateful she was already seated or she swore her legs would buckle.

“Thank you,” she forced out after a moment, ducking her head away from his intense gaze. “I should get back to work now,” she said, moving to stand up.

When Gold tried to do the same, he wobbled a bit and instinctively reached out to stop himself from falling, jarring the cabinet by the wall and making it shudder with the force. Rose looked back from the door, clearly about to ask if he was alright or offer assistance, but he shook his head before she had the chance.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, though he didn’t look it.

Rose nodded once and walked away, sure he was waiting for her to leave before he tried to move again, lest she see him stumble. He was a proud man, that she knew for sure, and yet there was a vulnerability in him sometimes she was sure she was privileged to see.

Though she never broached the subject for fear of his reaction, she had seen evidence in this house that he had not always been alone. She presumed there was a wife, she was certain there had been a son. So much loss, and whether his own fault or not, Rose was sure the poor man must have suffered. Perhaps it was why he seemed so bitter and twisted now. Still, now was not the time to focus on it, she supposed, she had plenty of work to do. Besides which, she heard the front door clang the very next moment and Gold was gone.

Outside the front door, Rose could have no idea that it took her employer a couple of good deep breaths before he could walk down the steps and off to his first meeting of the day. Being so close to his darling Belle, who did not even know that was her name, it was torture. The man who was truly Rumpelstiltskin had thought it bad enough living in close quarters with a young woman he could never allow too close for fear of what would become of the powers he so needed to keep. Her love would have been his downfall then, but now he had no feelings from her to fear. She knew not who she was or who he was, and she certainly had no idea she had ever loved him.

It was worse, in a lot of ways, to have her so close and not knowing. Gold could not explain why, but that didn’t matter, it was still true. He really never should have agreed to have her come work for him like this, so much like their situation before, but he could not help himself.

The Queen had been smart to go after Belle, she was right to think the girl was Rumpel’s only weakness. At least whilst Rose worked for Gold he had some way to protect her here. He remained as powerful as ever, but Regina was not to be ignored. She could still be dangerous; after all, Storybrooke was her world, in essence, and not just because she was the mayor.

Mr Gold pulled up his car outside the dilapidated little house on the other side of town. There was a hint of wickedness to the smirk on his lips as he got out and headed up to the front door. He rapped on the wood with his cane and waited impatiently for a response.

Moe French looked stunned to see him, and scared enough that Gold felt a few inches taller than his height from the reaction alone. Power over others was what Rumpelstiltskin lived for, and he was still the same person inside, after all. The old man before him muttered about Rose leaving over an hour ago and if she wasn’t at work he didn’t know where she’d gone. Gold grew bored and cut him off mid-sentence.

“Miss French is exactly where she is supposed to be,” he snapped. “I would have been here a whole lot sooner if she were not,” she explained easily. “My business is with you, in relation to the money you have outstanding with me”.

“That’s almost paid off, another couple of weeks, that’s all,” Moe reminded him. “Then Rose comes home and everything is settled...”

“Ah, but you have worked out her time spent to pay off only the original loan,” said Gold with a smile that bordered on the evil side. “You’re not considering interest”.

Mr French and his wide eyes were equal parts pathetic and amusing, but Gold tried his best to look stern throughout. After all, it would not do to let his reputation slide as he made a further deal with the father of his assistant. He didn’t want her to leave him just yet, as torturous as her presence was, and if it meant baffling this old fool with legal jargon, so be it. He was not letting go of Rose as easily as he almost let Belle slip through his fingers. She was his to keep a hold on for as long as he could, even if it was painful, even if she did not know why, and he would never tell.


	5. Chapter 5

Rose was quite pleased with her days work, as she was on most occasions, especially given how tired and clumsy she felt today. Nightmares had given her a disturbed night, strange dreams that seemed to be recurring of late. Dungeons and darkness, and a man or a creature that she never saw but knew was there. She usually just shook them off but lately they were so very intense. Rose had half a mind to talk to Dr Hopper about it all but just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Folding the pillow case and adding it to the pile, Rose sighed. She had hoped to aspire to more than a common cleaning lady, but really, working for Mr Gold wasn’t that bad. She was not so proud as to be offended by the tasks he gave her, the cooking and cleaning and so forth, and when she helped out in the shop, taking inventory and such, it was always so interesting to see all the many items, trying to figure out where they had come from and why they were there. More hours in the shop would suit her better than the housework she had hoped to avoid until she was wed, but life had ways of throwing twists and turns at you when you least expected, she had found.

Moving the pile of linen from the ironing board to the counter, Rose got one more surprise she wasn’t expecting and it didn’t thrill her. The band aid that had been carefully applied to her finger this morning had come off at some point during her work, and she had bled on two different pure white items of linen in the carefully ironed and folded stack.

“Oh, no!” she exclaimed in frustration, picking up the spoilt items and throwing them towards the sink.

They would need attending to, soaking and re-washing. It was like starting all over again and made her hours of work a waste. Rose wanted to cry, though it would be a complete over-reaction to do so. It was just that she felt so tired, and some days so trapped here, in this house, in this town. Though she had been nowhere else and knew not where she would ever want to go anyway, she longed for freedom, like a bird trapped forever in a cage.

Bracing herself against the counter top, Rose took a couple of calming breaths and steadied her nerves. She was being ridiculous. Her life was not so bad, and many were worse off. She must endeavour to remember that when things seemed so tough. There was a remedy for her condition and she knew very well what it was. Rose checked the clock and realised she had more than hour yet before Gold would be home. With a new found smile on her lips she dodged up the stairs, cleaned up her finger and applied a new band aid, then slipped along the landing to the closed door on the opposite side.

The library was seldom disturbed, she was not so sure that her employer ever used it at all, and though she had begun only coming in here to dust and vacuum, her visits now were regular and perhaps even more frequent than they should be. Rose French was an avid reader, and hardly had time to get to the Storybrooke library to find what she wanted. Here at her work, she often had a few minutes to spare whilst waiting for food to cook or washing to finish a cycle. She spent those moments here, working her way through Mr Gold’s extensive but hardly touched collection. He knew nothing of her visits to his library, she was certain, and decided it was best he never did after all this time.

The library was the one thing she would miss when her time working here was over. It was almost worth offering to stay and earn a proper wage for her hard work, but Rose would not ask that. Perhaps if Mr Gold offered her the chance, particularly to work in the shop more, she might make a deal with him. Deals were his speciality after all, but Rose stopped thinking about it all fairly quickly as she settled into the corner armchair of the library and opened up the book she was half way through. Just a few minutes, a couple of chapters then she would get back to her work, and Gold would never know the difference. Unfortunately, Rose was more tired than she ever thought and fell fast asleep within ten minutes.

* * *

Gold had a seldom-seen smile on his face as he arrived home this particular afternoon. Usually he was doing or had done something entirely despicable in order to look so pleased with himself, and truth be told, he hadn’t exactly been a good boy today. He had pressured Moe French, confused him to the point where he believed that dear sweet Rose would just have to work for him a little longer, or Gold would have the man’s home and business out from under him in no time at all. It was not perhaps his finest hour, messing with an old man to get his way with a girl, but his intentions were at least somewhat respectable.

There was no way in the world that Gold would harm his dear Rose, not even make any sort of ‘move’ on her, as the young folks called it. He just wanted her near, close by, where he could keep an eye on her. At least half his reason was to show Regina that she couldn’t get to what always belonged to him, that she could not use his one weakness against him here, anymore than in the world from which they all came. His other reason was much more selfish. As much as he knew that she would never go near him in that way here in Storybrooke, Gold liked having Rose around. He liked having her close, being as she was when he called her Belle and she was the caretaker of his rather large estate. Sometimes it was nice to pretend, to imagine they were as they had been once, before True Love’s Kiss, and Regina, and fairy dust had made things so very complicated.

Gold’s hand gripped his cane too tight as he got angry at himself for letting his thoughts wander. It never did him any good, and besides it was just spoiling his mood. He expected to find Rose in the kitchen when he let himself into the house. Instead, he found half his bed clothes across the sink and drainer, the ironing board abandoned in the middle of the room, and his housekeeper nowhere to be seen.

With a frown, he searched around the ground floor and then headed for the stairs. Perhaps she was only in the bathroom, but Gold considered otherwise was most likely true. His library, which was actually meant only for her and furnished accordingly, that was where he was bound to find the girl. Where books were concerned she couldn’t help herself, and though she never asked permission to read her way through the collection he kept in his home, Gold knew temptation must have got the better of her. He wondered at her being so sloppy as to be caught though, and realised how that had come to happen when he silently pushed open the door and found her sound asleep in the armchair.

Oh, but she was beautiful. There were times he tried to make himself forget and yet moments like this took Gold’s breath away. Here in Storybrooke she was dressed in a more modern style and often tied her hair up to keep it out of the way when she worked, but that did not detract from her beauty that existed both on the outside for all to see and inside where it really counted. He could not deserve her, in either world, the man who was really Rumpelstilstkin knew that all too well, even if she had cared for him even a little here, and she did not.

“Miss French!” he snapped and watched her come to with a start and look of pure alarm.

It was cruel to wake her in such a way, but the urge inside him, the want to kiss her back to reality was suddenly overwhelming and the only way to stop himself was to take temptation away as quickly as possible. Rose woke with a start, dropping her book onto the floor, and looking positively terrified. Immediately, Gold felt bad about it and yet he would not show such a thing.

“Is there a reason why you’re up here, Miss French?” he asked her, leaning his weight on the bookshelf by the door, blocking any hasty exit she might like to make. “Perhaps learning to clean and dust through only the power of the mind?”

Rose opened her mouth to answer but no words came out. She had been caught and she felt ridiculous for it, not least because she had been found both sneaking into his private rooms and sleeping on the job. Rose was mortified, but she would not show such a thing.

“I was taking a short break, Mr Gold,” she told him simply, standing up and casually wiping a hand across her chin, knowing full well she had drooled in her sleep. “I don’t think even you begrudge me that, so long as all my duties are attended to in good time.”

She had spirit still, and it almost made him smile. She may be Rose rather than Belle, in a world where she did not remember her past, but she still had the fire in her eyes when riled up. God, he loved that about her.

“Begrudge you a rest, dear, when you work so hard? Of course not,” he told her easily. “I’m not a monster,” he echoed words she had once spoken of him, as he moved out of her way and gestured for her to pass by to the door.

Rose could hardly believe it, the manners and the acceptance of how he had found her. This was not the Gold everyone spoke of in hushed tones, the much feared beastly creature. She had often wondered how she managed to get that bit more civility out of him when no-one else could, but decided it best not to question such a matter or such a man.

In any case, she would not be here much longer, something she brought up when she realised he had followed her to the kitchen. She started to work on the abandoned blood-stained linen, hoping it could yet be saved, but she knew she could not pretend he wasn’t watching her.

“I suppose you could sack me for such insubordination,” she said with her back still to her employer. “But since I’m only to be here a couple more weeks anyway...”

“Not so, dear, not after my talk with your father,” he told her, causing Rose to look over he shoulder with a curious expression. “Of course, its dependant on your agreeing, you are not a slave here,” he smiled amiably, “but your father’s debt, whilst almost paid off, was subject to an amount of interest that has yet to be dealt with.”

Rose could so easily slap him and wipe that smirk off his face, but she would not. She was better than that and she would see to it that she proved it, come what may.

How dare he? How dare he want to keep her here longer? She was there when everything was arranged before, when this deal was struck. The interest had to have been accounted for she was sure of that, and yet how to argue with a man as powerful as Gold?

“How much longer?” she ground out, trying desperately to be calm.

On top of everything else today, she did not need this. The next deal she made was supposed to be for a real job and a proper wage, not more cooking and cleaning on a pittance to pay off debts her father could not possibly still owe. She was so tired today, so embarrassed to have been caught, so sick of feeling like she was living in an impenetrable bubble.

“I dare say we could round it down to just the four months...,” said Gold not entirely surprised by her sharp intake of breath or indeed the way she stormed by him with her jacket and purse in hand.

Perhaps what did surprise him was her turning back from the front door to yell at him.

“You are unbelievable!” she declared with tears in her eyes. “You don’t care about people or their feelings or anything!” she spat at him. “You just... you use people and you hoard your money! I’m ashamed to think I ever thought of you as a decent human being!”

She went for the door and yanked it open, but Gold spoke before she could quite make it out.

“Rose,” he said, the use of her first causing her to stop sharply but not look back. “We’ll mark today down as a sick day, but I expect you back tomorrow, bright and early.”

The door slamming loud enough to shake the whole house was the only response he got and Gold winced at the sound and the force of it. She was angry and upset, and he really hadn’t handled it well. Some part of him had stupidly hoped she might even be glad to stay with him longer, but how foolish a thought that had been. He did not treat her well enough for her to truly like him never mind think of love. He kept his distance as had been his habit when he was Rumpelstiltskin, she was Belle, and falling into love would result in catastrophe.

In this place, he would do well to treat her better, he knew that. She was a fine lady and he ought to be a gentlemen. He could have made today something special rather than deliberately provoking her. After all it was Valentine’s Day, and here in Storybrooke they might be closer with nothing to fear, yet he kept her at arms length today as always, bowing down to him or shouting at him in anger.

Gold was a fool and he knew it, just as he knew that it still held true, for all the powers of the Dark One that he possessed, she held infinitely more. Whether Belle or Rose or any other name the world set down for her, she would always be his one weakness, and the key to both his happiness or his downfall if she so wished.


	6. Chapter 6

“It’s not right, the way he treats you, Rose,” said Mary Margaret from her place across the table. “You shouldn’t put up with it.”

“What choice do I have?” she shrugged her bare shoulders, holding in a hiccup as she picked up her fifth drink of the hour. “He owns my father, and if I didn’t work off the debt, who knows what he’s capable of?”

“I’ll bet he’s capable of a whole lot more than you’d think,” said Ruby with a glint in her eye that made her friend choke on her cocktail.

“Oh, for God sakes, Ruby!” Ashleigh gasped, handing poor Rose a napkin to mop up the mess she made.

“What? Like I’m the only one thinking it?” she smiled as she looked around her circle of friends at the table. “This is girls night, we’re supposed to talk about guys, and if you people are gonna get stuck on Gold for a topic, I’m gonna say what I think,” she said definitely, downing her own drink in one gulp.

“Mr Gold is old enough to be your father, Ruby,” Mary Margaret pointed out to her, sounding every bit an admonishing parent herself.

The younger woman scoffed at such talk.

“Like that matters these days,” she rolled her eyes. “Besides, that just means he’s old enough to have learnt all the moves” she smiled wickedly. “And, I dunno, he has this whole air of power thing going on. I’m not saying I’d go for it, but I can see why some women would.”

Rose wasn’t sure that she wanted to say anything at this point. Honestly, she wasn’t certain she could anyway. Alcohol was new to her, or rather it was foreign to her body. She really didn’t partake as a rule, just a half glass of champagne at a special occasion or a sip of mulled wine at Christmas. Tonight when the girls had asked her to join them on their anti-Valentines night out, she figured why not? She had certainly had a bad day, good company and alcohol couldn’t make it worse, she considered, at least until the floor started spinning.

Now Ruby had started a conversation about Gold in a way Rose had never even thought of him before. She wasn’t so very naive. Of course she realised he was a man, and honestly, he was quite handsome when she let herself consider it, but that was as far as her thoughts had ever strayed up to now. Most people thought her employer to be a kind of evil, but that wasn’t true. He was ruthless in business and he could be a bit of a tyrant, shouting and yelling over the littlest thing when he was riled. Still, he was kind to Rose for the most part, remembered his manners, and never once took advantage of the situation they were in.

“Come on, Rose, spill it,” Ruby urged her then, bringing the other woman’s focus back to the conversation. “Has he ever tried to, y’know, get you to play hide the cane?”

“Eew!” Ashleigh reacted with disgust at the way the question was phrased.

It wasn’t long before she bust up laughing though, finding Ruby’s own giggling contagious and Mary Margaret’s blush just adorable.

“Mr Gold has never tried anything with me,” said Rose definitely, shaking her head briefly, stopping fast when she realised it was making the room tip and spin a whole lot more than she could bear. “He stares at me sometimes,” she recalled. “He thinks I don’t know he’s there but I do and... and...”

Rose felt strange, like a memory was in her head that she knew was definitely there, and yet she couldn’t bring it to the front of her mind and see it clearly. It was the oddest feeling, but she just passed it off as a symptom of too many cocktails. She was sure that was all it was.

She was also sure she was going to be violently sick in the next thirty seconds.

Rose’s stool went flying as she scrambled to get up and bolt towards the ladies bathroom. Mary Margaret went after her in an instant, with Ruby and Ashleigh considering doing the same until suddenly they realised they had company.

“Sean?” the blonde was stunned to see her boyfriend, but also entirely thrilled by his presence.

Their attention diverted by a marriage proposal in progress meant the girls let Mary Margaret deal with Rose alone. By the time she got to the bathroom, the younger woman was already vomiting loudly in the stall.

“Oh, honey,” Mary Margaret sighed as she waited outside until she was done. “I did try to tell you to slow down on those cocktails.”

“I know you did,” said Rose shakily when she emerged a few moments later, wobbling badly and looking extremely pale. “It’s my own fault. Everything just feels like it’s my fault,” she said sadly as she washed her hands and face and stared into the mirror. “Why can’t life just be how you want it to be?” she sighed heavily, looking at Mary Margaret in the glass.

“Because then life would be a fairytale,” the older woman smiled sadly, putting an arm around her friend and pulling her closer, “and that’s not going to happen” she said softly, thinking of her own situation in life as much as Rose’s own.

There was no way for her friend to argue with that right now, no way at all.

* * *

Mr Gold was on his way home, wishing he had never come out again on the evening of Valentine’s Day. Too many overly-romantic couples in love for his liking, that was for sure. He would have quite happily stayed in except he realised the paperwork he needed to work on was still in his shop, and fetching it was preferable to the alternative - sitting around thinking about how badly he had treated his darling Belle. In his head it was all she would ever be to him, no matter how much he knew he should force himself to think of her as Rose for fear of addressing her wrongly at some point. It was why he so often used ‘Miss French’ when he spoke to her.

As if she knew somehow he was thinking of her, the very woman of his dreams stepped out in front of him then. Well, perhaps stepped was the wrong word, stumbled or even fell might have been closer.

“Miss French?” his tone was questioning not because she was out so late or dressed up so much, but more so because of the way she was wobbling about in front of him, streaks of make-up down her pale cheeks.

“Mr Gold,” she did not speak his name herself, but Mary Margaret did as she appeared behind her friend, steadying her when she swayed a little. “What are you doing here?”

“Simply walking home, Miss Blanchard,” he noted, pointing down the street with his cane. “This is a public street, is it not?”

As her eyes flitted in the direction he had pointed, she realised someone else of interest just now coming around the corner.

“David,” she gasped at the sight of another woman’s husband, and Gold knew why.

He said not a word, but offered his arm to Rose, as Mary Margaret looked conflicted. She wanted to help her friend because she was a good soul. At the same time, her heart beat only for David Nolan, whether he was married to another or not.

“Rest assured, Miss Blanchard, I will see Miss French safely home,” he told her, releasing the woman of her charge before she had a chance to argue.

“You’re taking me home?” asked Rose, stumbling a little on high heels he had never seen her wear before.

“Yes, dear, that is the plan,” he smiled though he was not pleased to realise the state she was in.

Alcohol was all well and good for those that could stomach it, but his sweet Belle was not one of those people. She had made herself ill and what rankled the most with Gold was knowing he might well have been the cause of it. He might have made her so unhappy with the news of her father’s continued debt and the consequences of it as to have caused this. Spending time with him must be a kind of hell to her in this world, and such a thought cut into what was left of his heart like a knife, leaving a wound no magic would ever heal.

Of course, she didn’t seem all that repulsed by him right in this moment, leaning most of her weight into his side and resting her head on his shoulder. Sweet torture was all it was to have her this close and in a vulnerable state even the Dark One would not use against her. This coupled with the fact that he could barely hold her weight and walk on his damned bad leg at the same time, meant Gold’s agony in all senses was immense, but he would bear it for her, only because it was her.

* * *

When they reached his home, Gold deposited Rose in an armchair, and headed straight to the kitchen to make coffee. The fresh air had helped her to feel less giddy and so when Rose heard much clanking and slamming in the next room, she felt quite alright about picking herself up and walking through it see what all the fuss was about. Gold was muttering about not being able to find anything in his own house when she got to the doorway and had to stifle a giggle at catching him talking to himself.

“I thought I told you to stay where I put you,” he said, perhaps a little too harshly, and without ever turning his head to look.

“I’m not a child,” answered Rose, even as she hopped up to sit on the edge of the kitchen table, swinging her legs back and forth like the young one she claimed not to be.

There was an odd familiarity when Gold turned and glanced at her then. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the way he looked at her, the feeling of being here like this, sat on the table, him cradling a cup in his hands as he stared at her...

Rose shook it off the very next moment, blaming an over-active imagination and alcohol for the strangeness of it all. She was never going to drink cocktails again, of that she was most certain, and she was never letting Ruby put silly ideas in her head about her employer!

“It’s odd, isn’t it?” she said then, changing the subject and lightening the strange mood all at once, she hoped. “I usually serve you and here you are serving me,” he smiled with some amusement.

“It’s just a cup of coffee, lassie,” he pointed out, as he turned to hand it to her. “Don’t get used to it.”

She was glad he was smiling too by now and took the coffee with a proper thank you, even scooching over a little so he might join her on the edge of the table. In a normal state of mind she might not have done such a thing, she probably wouldn’t be here like this at all, but tonight was different, in a way she couldn’t even begin to explain. It was oddly disappointing when Gold chose to take the chair instead of joining her as she had imagined he might. Perhaps she really was going mad after all.

“Why do you have me work here?” she asked then, all out of the blue, so much so Gold almost dropped his coffee cup right in his lap.

Perhaps it was the familiarity of the moment that startled him. In his mind he saw another day, in another time and place, with Belle sat on the edge of his fine dining table, and him sat in his favourite chair, sipping tea. She asked why he used her as the bargaining chip with her father and his little war. She wondered at his life-style and explained her own choice of coming to play maid to the Dark One when she might’ve been so much less brave.

“The place’d be filthy if nobody cleaned it,” he shrugged his shoulders, before returning focus to his coffee cup.

Rose nodded that he might be right. A house did need to be cleaned, especially one this size with so many treasures and trinkets. The dust would be an inch thick in no time at all if she didn’t keep on top of it. Still, she had to wonder why he seemed determined it be her that stayed and did it, why no other woman or even man might be hired properly to do the job, instead of her, instead of allowing her father some peace by letting the debt be paid off in such a way.

“Right then,” Gold said when he realised there was another question her lips already. “Best we put you to bed, Miss French”

The burst of laughter was unexpected and so sudden, he might have been in danger of dropping his cup a second time had he not just placed it carefully on the table. He knew she was a bit drunk, but he saw nothing so very funny in what he had said.

“That’s what Ruby thinks,” she admitted, blushing fiercely when she realised what she was actually saying. “I, er... she has some strange theories about you and me,” she told the man that stared at her still, gaze unwavering.

Gold knew what she meant, of course he knew, man of the world and all that. Still, he had not expected such a thing from her, from the alter-ego of his dear sweet innocent Belle. Ruby had animal instincts which were understandable. She saw raw passion in anything and everything, it was to be expected. What startled Gold was the way Rose had spoken of it. The theories on alcohol loosening the tongue were so easily proven, though that particular thought led to a few others he knew he should not be having in this moment.

“You knew that wasn’t what I meant,” was all he said as he got to his feet, reaching for his cane to steady him as he put his own cup in the sink and turned to ask for hers, only to realise she had moved in that moment and was altogether too close.

“What’s your name?” she asked, staring at him as if she never saw him before in her life. “I mean, I know it’s Mr Gold, obviously, but your first name?” she asked him. “I don’t think I ever heard it said by anyone.”

“That’s because nobody cares to know it, never mind to use it,” he told her, his voice too soft to his own ears as he pulled her cup from her grasp but never actually turned to put it in the sink.

Her eyes were hypnotic, eyes a man could fall into and drown a happy death. Poor Rose had no idea what she did to him, it was why Gold kept her at a distance, for fear of what he might do, what the monster that still lived inside him might be capable of even now it was locked in this world, almost powerless.

“Tell me,” she urged him, speaking only of his name of course, but there was so much he wanted to tell her, to show her.

“Anthony,” he said, swallowing hard the very next moment. “Anthony Gold is my full name.”

His answer seemed to please her as a smile lit up her face. Perhaps it was just that he had made her feel special, the first and only to know the name he did not share with others.

“People don’t care for you very much, Anthony Gold,” she said, stepping back out of his personal space at last, allowing him to breathe which he dare not do with her so close.

“Well, dear, I’m a difficult man to love,” he told her, dumping her cup in the sink alongside his, glad to turn away, to brace himself against the worktop and gain some composure whilst she wandered around in thought.

“I don’t think you’re so bad,” she told him. “Not as dark as people think, and certainly not as evil as you try to pretend,” she considered. “I think you’re just lonely, and I think people in town, they’re intimidated by your wealth and power. They’re just afraid of what they don’t understand,” she shrugged her pretty shoulders when he turned to look at her then.

“Aye, but not half so afraid as they should be,” he told her, with an edge to his voice that she couldn’t fully comprehend in her tipsy state of being.

“I’m not afraid,” she said, sticking out her chin, showing off that bravery she was so proud of herself for having many moons ago in a whole other world she didn’t even remember coming from.

Gold was pleased enough to hear he didn’t scare her, and yet in this moment she might have done better to run from him. God, she was beautiful, with such a fire in her eyes, in her soul still. No matter the world she inhabited, the name she lived under, she was his darling Belle. He would always love her, and he would always want her, never more so than now.

“Go to bed, Miss French,” he told her, turning his face away. “Find some blankets, pick a spare room, just... just go,” he urged her.

She didn’t argue, and for that Gold could not be more grateful. As it was he felt worked up enough to go after her and show her just exactly how afraid she ought to be of him, how much he could scare her. If he confessed all he felt, she would be terrified, disgusted, he knew it. He kept his distance because he must and kept her near enough as to torture himself. Now the balance was tipping, he was letting her get too close, and there was every chance and every danger of her seeing through one of his many disguises.

Reaching into the sink, Gold pulled out the cup he had drank his coffee from, running his fingers around the rim to the small chip. He breathed through the frustration and pain, let it all go, because he had to. For Rose’s sake as well as for his own, he had to.


	7. Chapter 7

Rose woke with a pounding in her head and a terrible sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was as if she had been turned inside out and then returned to the right way over night, at least that was how it felt. As she laid there with her eyes tight shut against the morning light that would creep in through the gap in the curtains, Rose tried to think what had happened. She had a vague memory in the back of her mind of downing bright coloured drinks at a bar, after that things got very hazy.

Cracking open one eye, Rose’s breath hitched in her throat when she realised she was not at home. She was in a double bed in an unfamiliar room and a quick check proved she was all but naked. Panic started to set in then, as her mind raced. She tried to remember the exact events of yesterday, but every attempt she made had her head pounding harder. Bile rose in her throat, and yet she was sure she could not be sick.

“I was ill?” she said softly to herself, recalling the scene in the bar when she ran to the bathroom at top speed.

After that, she now remembered walking home with someone, with a man. Rose frowned hard and forced her mind to recall the events clearly. She felt a hand at her waist turning her towards the door, then the kitchen in Gold’s house. Sitting on the edge of the table, he joined her, or he didn’t... she wasn’t sure. His name was Anthony and she was here to keep the house clean. Without her the place would be filthy; the house, a castle. Rose was all the more confused as memories seemed to swirl together, half her own and half some kind of dream world.

“Never drink again,” she muttered, covering her eyes with one hand, but still a million pictures danced and muddled behind her lids.

Gold sat at a table, but when she walked around him, it was something else, like a wheel perhaps. He looked back at her and smiled, then he was in her face screaming. Rose would have reeled back were she not already lying down. It had to be a dream. First had come the drinking and the sickness, and after her employer brought her home and let her sleep off her alcohol intake, she must have dreamt about him. It was the only reasonable explanation, Rose decided.

In any case, it couldn’t matter right now. Thinking too hard about what had been and what was not only made Rose’s head bang all the more. She had to figure out where she went from here. If she was at Mr Gold’s house, she had to wonder if he was here too. He might appear at any moment or he might have left for his shop already. Oh, she dreaded facing him if he was still here. What a fool she must have made of herself last night in her drunken state.

Rose took a deep breath and forced herself to sit up. The room spun a little but she soon swallowed back the dizziness and sickness that hit her in tandem. She looked towards her dress hung over the chair and then across the room. There was a frown on her delicate features as she realised there was a piece of paper under the edge of the closed door. Hopping carefully out of bed and wrapping herself completely in the comforter, Rose moved to investigate. The paper was a note bearing her name in Gold’s flowing hand, which she swiftly opened. Her eyes took a moment to focus and then a smile came to her lips.

He couldn’t be serious, of course. Rose was certain he was joking when he hoped she recovered quickly and explained that breakfast was waiting outside the door. He had even expressed concern for her health and allowed her to skip work today if she wasn’t feeling up to it.

“He’s lost his mind,” she said to herself as she reached for the door knob and pulled.

Sure enough, there in the hallway was a tray with eggs and toast all being kept warm by a glass cover, a pot of coffee and a jug of juice, with a cup to drink from. To finish it all off was a small vase in the centre holding a single red rose. The woman who shared her name with the flower plucked the bloom from its place and breathed in the sweet scent. A chuckle of laughter escaped her lips at how ridiculous and yet lovely this whole situation was.

Who knew that dear Anthony Gold could be so kind? The world saw a monster, a cold-hearted leech, that put money above all people and things. Rose was sure that was untrue. There were times he could be so sweet, and this morning was a case in point. She was also all too aware that there was many a man who might have taken advantage of her state of being last night.

Rose took her breakfast tray back into the bedroom and closed the door. Despite the amount of things she had forgotten or that had become confused inside her mind, she did know nothing inappropriate had happened between herself and her employer. She had said things she shouldn’t, pushed some boundaries, of that she was certain. Not once had Gold used her weakened body or addled mind against her. He hadn’t laid a hand on her, save to assist her walking home. Nothing inappropriate at all, not even a suggestion of it.

It confused Rose to realise she was almost disappointed. Her mind raced back to the bar last night and immediately she cursed Ruby for putting ideas into her head. She was sure she had never thought of Mr Gold as anything but her employer before then. Of course he was always handsome, enticingly powerful, mysteriously attractive in some strange way she couldn’t entirely quantify. Perhaps she did have her own ideas about him before Ruby spoke up, but Rose had not thought on them so seriously until now.

“Its the hangover,” she told herself, shaking her head, and immediately wishing she hadn’t when the world swirled in and out of focus.

She needed to eat, drink her coffee, and rest her head a while longer. Apparently there was little else for her to do all day, if she was going to take Gold’s note seriously. He would pay her and yet she did not have to work if she was not feeling up to it. Rose half wondered if he hadn’t partaken of far too many drinks himself last night!

* * *

  
Anthony Gold checked his pocket watch for the fourth time in as many minutes. It was ridiculous, he knew perfectly well that it was a little past midday, as his watch and several clocks around his shop had already advised. The trouble of it was that knowing the time made no difference. Whilst he could conjure up in his mind a picture of his darling Rose, imagine quite easily what household task she might be performing on any normal day, today was different.

She would wonder at the note he left, he was sure. Honestly, Gold wondered himself what he had been thinking of when he wrote it. The poor girl would wake and wonder where she was, probably feeling as bad if not worse than she had the night before. To add to her confusion, she would find his note beneath the door telling her to take some rest, eat the breakfast he himself had prepared for her, and relax. Poor Rose would be completely baffled by his change in behaviour, he was sure, especially since she probably remembered little of her exploits last night.

Gold closed his eyes and pushed out the images that danced though his mind then. Exploits was hardly the word to be used, since Rose’s behaviour had been hardly less than appropriate. She talked to him in a way she would not normally, and he allowed it because she was drunk and vulnerable at the same time. He told her his given name, at least the one he had here, and she looked like a proud child to have learnt it. She had been so close, so achingly close, he could feel her sweet breath on his face and feel the heat of her body close to his own. God, the things he could have said and done, and she might even have let him in such a state. It did not bear thinking of now, for it would be the undoing of him, Gold knew. Though he was a man here, flesh and blood, the Dark One lived within, buried not so deep inside. Rose knew nothing of what that monster was capable of, not even as much as she had known when she was Belle.

The chimes jingled suddenly as the front door opened, snapping Gold from a veritable daze. He looked up quickly, almost hoping it was a customer who might take his mind off other things for a while. It was both a pleasure and a damned nuisance to realise his visitor was the very angel that haunted his every moment, both sleeping and awake.

“Miss French,” he greeted her politely. “Feeling better I see,” he noted with a smile as she came over to the counter with her basket on her arm.

“I am, thank you,” she agreed, with a smile that slipped a little when she continued. “I, er... I don’t remember all of last night clearly,” she admitted, feeling foolish, “but I do know that you must’ve taken good care of me. Thank you, Mr Gold,” she said sincerely, putting a hand to his arm to ensure she had his full attention.

He had almost looked as if he wanted to run away from her. Rose found that strange in itself, for surely it was everyone else who wanted to bolt at the sight of him, not the other way around. It made her feel certain she had said or done something dreadful last night to make him feel this way, and yet he had been so kind. It didn’t make sense.

“You’re quite welcome, Miss French,” he told her, patting her hand lightly before extracting his arm from her light grip. “Really, no need to make a fuss, dear. I was only ensuring the health and safety of an employee,” he told her, turning towards the curtains that hid his office.

“About my being your employee,” she said behind him, his hand stalling at the edge of the material that he would hide behind given half the chance. “I was thinking, what you said about my staying on longer to clear the interest on Papa’s debt,” she continued, though she was talking entirely to Gold’s back still. “I will do it, if you still want me.”

The man who was once Rumpelstiltskin bit his lip so hard it almost bled. If he still wanted her? She had no idea, and there was no way he could ever tell her, no matter how it was killing him to live in silence these days.

“That would be... agreeable,” he told her, looking back over his shoulder just briefly, and then more readily when he realised she had moved.

“I was wondering though, about my work,” Rose went on as she turned circles in the open space of the shop, taking in each and every item in her path. “I don’t mind the housework but there isn’t always enough to do to properly fill a week. I end up repeating tasks that probably don’t need doing so often,” she admitted. “You hardly get your money’s worth that way.”

“And you had an alternative suggestion?” Gold checked, quick with his question before some other less-delicate words forced their way through his lips.

“Well, I do love this shop,” she admitted with a girlish smile as she faced him again. “Everything in it is so fascinating. Each item with a story as to where it came from, who made it or sold it or bought it,” she went on with a hint of giddy laughter in her voice. “You must need help here too? With inventory or just to watch over the place when you have other things to attend to?” she suggested.

Gold had to admit, if only to himself, that he wouldn’t mind her being here. Still, sharing space and time with his dearest Rose both at home and at work, it might prove complicated. Already he felt he was losing his grip on his control and his sanity combined. If she continued in her current ways, so sweet and almost flirty with him, it could prove a real challenge. Of course, Rumpelstiltskin never backed down from a challenge, and he and Gold were one and the same.

“You make an excellent suggestion, Miss French,” he nodded once, leaning heavily on the counter top. “I shall definitely consider it.”

She seemed pleased enough, if the beautiful smile on her lips was anything to go by. With a further thanks for his kindness to her today, she promised she would still complete her days duties and was going to do so right now. Rose was almost to the door when he bid her farewell, only to have her turn and walk back into the shop. He raised an eyebrow at her sudden return and waited for whatever explanation she might give for it.

“I know you might not find it appropriate in public,” she said, looking towards the door as if to check no-one had come in for the past five seconds, “but when we’re alone, well, you could call me Rose, you know? And now that I know your first name...”

“Very well,” he cut in before the question was even complete. “If it would please you, dear, you may call me Anthony. Outside of company, of course,” he added quickly. “And I shall endeavour to remember to call you by your first name in return.”

She was beaming again at the answer she wanted, as she turned to leave a second time and this time made it out the door, calling a cheerful ‘see you later’. The tinkling chimes signalled she was gone, and the slam of the door made it final. Only then did Gold speak again.

“You shall indeed see me later,” he said, in all but a whisper. “My sweet Belle.”


	8. Chapter 8

Rose French glanced around the kitchen, ensuring nothing was going burn, boil over, or otherwise need her attention for a few moments. She hurried through to the dining room then and checked the arrangements there. It was Friday night and that usually meant Mr Gold stayed late at the shop, going over the books. Rose would make him dinner, as was required of her, and leave it warming in the oven for when he returned. She was gone from the house long before he came home and would not see him again until Monday morning. Today was to be different.

In all honesty, everything felt different these past few days anyway. It was only Tuesday when Mr Gold had told Rose she would be working for him much longer than she thought. He had seemed so gleeful about her Papa’s suffering, about her own suffering, she had got quite angry and stormed out on him.

By Wednesday morning all had been forgiven as Rose realised how well her so-called tyrant of an employer had taken care of her when she behaved like such a silly girl. Drunk for the first time in her life, and hungover the next day, he had been a complete gentleman when she was vulnerable. More than that, when they had come to talk the next day, when she had a chance to thank him for making her breakfast and allowing her to be lax with her duties for the day, he had agreed to them being on a first name basis. He had almost agreed to let her work in his shop too, something she had wanted to ask for a while now but never quite had the nerve.

Tonight was about thanking Anthony for his kindness in a lot of ways, but at the same time she did have a ploy. Two days hence and no further mention had been made of her possible new job description. This seemed like a pleasant setting to bring up such a thing without him losing his temper, as everyone knew Gold was prone to doing at times. Dinner for two, what was more innocent than that? It was only then when she considered her own internal question that Rose realised the answer.

“Hmm...” she said thoughtfully. “Too romantic?” she asked herself, observing the table from all angles.

Perhaps the flowers and candles were a little too far. She had no reason to want this to seem like a date, or worse a seduction, since it was nothing of the kind. Poor Rose coloured at the very idea of such a thing, and yet a smile came unbidden to her lips. Anthony Gold was a nice man, at least he could be when he wanted. Though he was clearly older than her by some years, he was still handsome, and there was just something about him, a power and intensity. It was enough to make any woman take notice, she supposed, though until recently Rose hadn’t thought that much about it. Since the seed was planted in her mind, however, she couldn’t seem to quite get rid of it.

Rose had just got the candlesticks and flowers hidden away from the table when she heard the front door open and close. She rushed back to the kitchen, pulling off her apron as she went and smoothing down her long skirt. She checked the food over again, even though she was sure it was fine and would be ready within five minutes, just as she had planned.

“Miss French?” the familiar voice of her employer called to her, but not in anger, which was a relief.

The way Mr Gold’s moods could swing some times, there was always a risk he would see her attempts at kindness and assume she was just being presumptuous. To take it as read that he wouldn’t mind the hired help dining with him was a little forward perhaps, but Rose liked to appear brave, even when she didn’t completely feel it.

“I thought we agreed to be on a first name basis when there was no-one else around,” she said with a sly smile as she came through to the dining room again from the kitchen.

Anthony was in the other doorway from the hall, leaning heavily on his cane, with confusion making lines along his brow. He had not expected this, how could he? His dear Rose always saw him well fed, but never stayed to dine with him. He considered inviting her before but always thought better of it before the invitation was ever extended. It seemed now she was quite comfortable inviting herself!

“I don’t understand,” he told her plainly.

“Its really quite simple,” she replied, walking swiftly over to him and taking the books from his hands. “I’ve made dinner for the two of us. I thought perhaps you’d like some company for once, and that since we’re friends now...” she faltered a little as she laid his paperwork down on the sideboard and turned back to face him, worrying her bottom lip.

Perhaps she had over-stepped the mark, gone too far with this idea. She should have asked, she knew she should, but they’d just been getting on so well. It had seemed like a nice gesture, a really good idea in her head. Now in the moment of it all, Rose felt quite sick.

“Friends?” he echoed the word with no tone she could discern. “Yes, dear, I expect we are that,” he smiled eventually, and Rose let out a breath she hardly knew she’d been holding. “How very kind of you.”

“It was no trouble,” she smiled brightly, moving to help him out of his coat.

Of course she had no idea what her closeness did to Anthony Gold. She couldn’t realise how it thrilled and pained him at the same time to have her behave this way around him. Friends was the understatement of the century for what they were, or rather what they might have been to one another. She had loved him once, and he had loved her, though the words remained unspoken on his side. Here in Storybrooke, in this land without magic, he was sure she could never feel that way about him again, and yet they were becoming closer all the same.

“Dinner will be ready in less than five minutes,” said Rose when she returned from hanging up Gold’s coat. “We seemed to have timed things perfectly, even though I wasn’t sure when you’d be back.”

She rushed right through the room, back towards the kitchen, and he followed at a more sedate pace. He eyed the table on the way past with suspicion. A ring of water in the centre suggested a vase had been there before, a couple of tell tale marks that might be candle wax sat either side. He smiled but said nothing about it to Rose. It was going to be an interesting evening.

* * *

It wasn’t exactly a shock to Rose or her employer when dinner conversation started out stilted at best. Though she was in Anthony’s house five days a week, it was often when he was out himself or locked in his office working. They saw little of each other most of the time, and it was only recently their paths had crossed much at all. They had become friends, in just a few days, after goodness knows how long of existing in the same space. It was odd, but not half so much as sitting here now, sharing dinner as if they were the best of friends, or possibly more.

Things picked up after he complimented her fine cooking, not just tonight, but whenever she left meals for him. She graciously thanked him, and an unlikely conversation about cuisine started up. From there, they got on to other topics, boring inane things really, but it was enough to amuse them between mouthfuls of delicious dinner.

Gold picked up the wine bottle to pour himself another glass and offered Rose a top up which she politely declined.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said, blushing at the very thought of how her and alcohol had reacted together before. “I still can’t believe the way I behaved Valentines night,” she said, ducking her head in embarrassment.

“We all make mistakes, dear,” he told her kindly, pouring himself just half a glass and then replacing the wine on the table. “You’re not the first to over-indulge in such a way, and I doubt you’ll be the last.”

“It’s just really not like me,” she insisted.

“I know,” he nodded, sipping his own drink, deliberately not looking at her even when he knew she was staring.

How did he know? She might just ask him and he had no explanation. Gold never asked too much about what Rose knew of her past. Trapped here in unmoving time for the past thirty years, nothing changing, nothing real. When Emma Swann came to town, everything shifted. It was as if the unsuspecting drones the people had become suddenly came alive. They developed opinions and ideas of their own. They woke up and saw the sun above their heads, and stopped being afraid of life. Gold noticed because he had been awake this whole time, waiting for the moment when everyone else caught up to him, Belle most of all.

“I should fetch dessert,” she said suddenly, shaking herself out of a daze.

She got up and gathered up the empty plates and cutlery, taking them away to the kitchen. It was strange how she had lost herself of a moment there, when Anthony said simply that he understood her, that he knew her. She hadn’t given it much thought before, how well he thought he knew her. For two people who had spent so much time in the same house, she felt they knew very little of one another in any real sense, and at the same time, there was a bond she didn’t know how to break. That had to mean something, she supposed, but goodness only knew what!

“Maybe even one glass of wine is too much,” she muttered to herself as she opened the fridge and pulled out the dessert.

Back at the table a few moments later, the odd moment between them seemed to be over, and so much the better as far as Rose was concerned. She wanted to get back to her reason for being here, or at least one of the main ones.

“I was hoping we might talk about the shop,” she said, eyes on her dessert at first. “You did say you would think about my working there.”

“So I did,” he agreed, smiling when she looked at him, and yet it didn’t look real somehow.

“You decided you didn’t want me there, didn’t you?” she sighed, sure that was what came next.

Honestly, it was what Gold meant to say. He couldn’t have her in the shop, so close and yet so far. It was torture enough having her around the house, being so sweet and friendly. He was going to forget himself one of these days. He would say (or worse do) something stupid, something she wouldn’t understand and couldn’t forgive. Gold quite definitely meant to say no, she couldn’t work in his shop, driving him mad with her feminine wiles, and yet one look at her wide eyes and quivering lip had him changing his mind.

“Whatever gave you that idea, Rose?” he asked her easily. “If your heart is set on helping me in the shop, I’m quite happy to let you,” he told her, not really a lie by now as she grinned back at him with utter delight.

Over dessert, which he complimented as highly as dinner, they discussed the particulars. She told him the days and times when she generally had spare time, and they correlated those with when he was likely to want or need her in the shop. It was all very civilised, even friendly. Employer and employee relationship lines were not so much being crossed and entirely trampled this evening, and yet neither of them could find it in themselves to care.

It was a while after the spoons were sat in empty dishes and the wine was all gone, that Rose let out a yawn she could no longer hold in. She immediately apologised and stood up, proclaiming the dishes would not wash themselves.

“If you’re tired you should go home,” said Anthony, all full of concern she wasn’t quite expecting. “I can wash up.”

“Really?” she questioned with a smirk playing at her lips. “Then what am I here for?”

Now that he dare not answer, for fear of telling her the truth.

“Believe it or not, Rose, I am capable of operating both taps and a bottle of detergent,” he told her, mirroring her expression as he pulled himself to his feet.

“Really, Anthony, its fine. I don’t mind,” she assured him, as they played out a mini battle over clearing the table.

He wasn’t exactly winning, given the handicap of having to keep one hand on his cane, but he was determined. She huffed and sighed, pretending to be exasperated by him when he wouldn’t hand over the dishes he was holding to ransom.

“Final offer - I’ll wash and you can dry,” said Rose with one hand on her hip and an expression he swore he hadn’t seen in thirty years. “Do we have a deal?”

“Indeed we do,” he nodded once, trying not to smile at her choice of phrase.

Honestly, for a second or two, it was almost as if she truly were Belle, as if she remembered everything. All too soon the moment was over, and they headed into the kitchen together. Rose pushed up her sleeves and pulled her apron back on, tossing a dishtowel to Anthony. It was the most bizarre scene, and she couldn’t help but laugh as she thought of the other people in town and how they might react if they saw it. The great and powerful Mr Gold, jacket off and shirt sleeves rolled back, drying every dish and pan she passed his way.

“Something is clearly amusing you,” he said, leaning his weight back on the counter top so his knee didn’t give up on him.

“Its nothing,” she smiled prettily, glancing at him only briefly. “I was just thinking, I like that we can be friends now,” she told him honestly, emptying the sink at last, and turning to lean alongside him. “You don’t seem to have that many.”

“I’m a difficult man to love,” he told her, looking her way and finding her much closer than expected in that moment.

“I don’t see why,” she told him, her words barely a whisper of breath on his cheek.

Rose couldn’t move when she realised how close they were. She should and she knew it, that was the point, but the intensity of Anthony’s gaze when he looked at her seemed to stick her to the spot. They were close enough to feel each others breath, close enough to kiss.

“I should go,” she said suddenly, rushing away.

Gold didn’t have a chance to react before she was gone. His legs wouldn’t work, and when he opened his mouth to say her name it was ‘Belle’ that stuck in his throat rather than ‘Rose’. She was calling ‘see you Monday’ and slamming the front door, before he even managed to hobble out of the kitchen; without him ever getting the chance to answer or check if she was okay out in the dark alone.

Anthony Gold ought to have known that being in close quarters with Rose French was never going to be easy. Back in the old world, where they were Rumpelstiltskin and Belle, it had been difficult enough living in the Dark Castle together, completely in love and entirely unable to let their feelings loose. He had known then that it would not be long before Regina enacted the curse he helped her to create, and that after it came down upon them things would change. He had not been completely clear on whether it would be for the worse or the better, all he did know was that Belle would be reimagined and would not remember him or their love at all.

It seemed like a better solution. As Rose French, his beloved was not suffering the hardship of hiding her heart because she did not know to whom it once belonged. For Gold himself, however, the pain was just as hard to bear, worse perhaps because she lived in ignorance of what they once meant to each other. He had comforted himself that in some ways it was better, because he didn’t have to fear her wanting him.

Here in Storybrooke, Gold had no real power. He felt like an old man, and limped like one too. He was Rose’s employer and the town bully in a lot of ways. She did not fear him exactly but she barely liked him in the beginning. Now things were changing again.

They were friends, she has even said so. It was so similar to how they had been before in their original world. They started talking, and conversations led to a closeness he hadn’t had in too many years, perhaps ever in his long and twisted life. Memories of the Dark Castle and the ray of light named Belle that had come into it twisted with this evening’s events, making Gold feel dizzy and nauseated.

He wandered back to the kitchen, more by accident than design, bracing himself on the counter when he reached it. His eyes wandered over the crockery there, a familiar set that didn’t even ought to exist here. Once upon a time it had been destroyed, all but one piece flung against the wall in rage. He could do it again now, it might make him feel better to let out the frustration of letting his life run in dangerous circles, but this time Gold held it together, albeit by a thread.

One hand reached out for the cup he drank his coffee out of to this day. The little china vessel with the chip out of the rim, dropped from Belle’s own fair hands. Gold closed his eyes and wished the world away, an irony he knew, given the way he had been banished here with everyone else. Maybe he was just wishing Rose French away, because her getting close could never end well. It hadn’t last time, after all, and Gold had no reason to believe it would be any better here, just because they were in a land without magic.


	9. Chapter 9

“Hey, how goes the recruiting of helpers?” Emma was smiling as she hurried across the street to meet Mary Margaret.

The happy expression fell away fast when she saw her friend’s own sad face.

“How well do you think it’s going?” she asked, holding up the clipboard that held an empty sign-up sheet.

“Oh,” the blonde said awkwardly. “Well, hand it over,” she continued, trying to look cheery as she took up the pen and added her name to the non-list.

Things had just gotten so messy for Mary Margaret and to Emma it just wasn’t fair. Sure, she knew that affairs were bad, that David was a married man and her friend should have left well alone until the Nolans decided to split up for good, but it wasn’t Emma’s place to judge other people’s hearts or relationships. She had made mistakes enough herself over the years. Henry was walking proof of more than one of them.

“I understand I’ve disappointed some people,” Mary Margaret sighed as the two of them walked along together, “but what’s my real crime here? I only fell in love.”

“I know,” Emma nodded as she linked her arm through her friend’s own. “Y’know this whole thing will blow over. Kathryn will call David or Regina or somebody and say she’s fine, and people will forget how bad things got.”

“Henry must be rubbing off on you,” Mary Margaret smiled however forlornly. “You’re starting to believe in happily ever afters.”

“Good morning,” a cheery voice greeted them.

Both Emma and Mary Margaret looked up to see Rose French approaching, arm in arm with Mr Gold. It was all Emma could do to form words and reply with her own greeting, as the unlikely couple slipped into the pawn shop. Mary Margaret continued walking, taking Emma with her more by accident than design. The Sheriff craned her neck back over her shoulder, watching Gold’s shop until the last moment.

“That’s just a weird set-up,” Emma noted with a look of confusion.

“Rose and Mr Gold?” her friend questioned as they headed for Granny’s place. “She’s worked for him for as long as I can remember. I’m pretty sure it has to do with paying off her father’s debts.”

“It’s not her working for him that’s weird,” her friend assured her. “It’s the way they are around each other, like they’re best friends or... or more than that?”

Mary Margaret took a moment to consider. There had been talk from Ruby about Mr Gold and Rose possibly being closer than they seemed. Though the maid had been certain to point out that her employer had never once behaved inappropriately with her, she hadn’t exactly denied there might be something more between them. Perhaps she just wished there was. She wouldn’t be the first to fall for the most unlikely man, or the wrong one.

“You think it’d be so bad if they were a couple?” she asked, as Emma opened the door to Granny’s and they headed inside.

“I don’t know,” the blonde shrugged, sliding into a booth. “I mean, he’s a little old for her, maybe, but that never stopped anybody before.”

“Love doesn’t know age” Mary Margaret pointed out as she took a seat too, “or colour or class or...”

“Or marital status?” her friend checked, perhaps a cruel thing to say but true nonetheless, there was no getting away from that.

“Neither Rose or Mr Gold are married,” she said, dipping her eyes to the table. “We were talking about them.”

“We were,” Emma nodded once. “I’m sorry.”

“Anyway, I think its sweet,” said Mary Margaret, after Ruby had come over to take their order. “Y’know Mr Gold always seems so lonely in that shop by himself, maybe he’d be happier, nicer even, if somebody loved him,” she smiled. “Rose is a good person.”

“Yeah, and that was kinda my point,” Emma repeated. “She’s too good for him. It’d be like... like Beauty and the Beast,” she laughed lightly, then stopped too suddenly a moment later.

Henry and his book, they were messing with her mind. She was seeing fairytales wherever she looked. She really had to focus more on reality right now.

* * *

Rose could not stop smiling. Most people who had just arrived at work on a Monday would be sour-faced and grumpy, but not her. True enough, she had been working since early this morning, cleaning and laundering clothes and such. Now here she was just after lunchtime, genuinely thrilled to be learning her new role as assistant in Mr Gold’s shop.

A pawn shop might not seem like a happy place to many. They only came in here to give away their prize possessions in return for cash they were desperate for. Rose didn’t see it that way. She only saw the treasures piled high on shelves and hanging from walls, all their history and stories to be told. Her hand ran along the edge of a shelf filled with ornaments and trinkets, down the strands of a mobile that held glass animals, and then over the heads of a pair of wooden dolls sat side by side.

Gold meant to interrupt her deep thought, but couldn’t bring himself to do so. She looked so happy, so much like Belle - carefree and giddy like a young woman ought to be. Everything fascinated her, and watching her take in each and every item was hypnotising. Her fingers running along every surface and around every detail of the items in his shop, Gold’s focus had shifted to that alone and he knew immediately it was a mistake. His mind wandered far more than her hands did, onto all the things she could do with them. Dangerous territory indeed.

“Rose,” he called her name on the second attempt, finding he had to clear his throat to do so properly. “I know everything here quite fascinates you, but are you not here to work, dear?” he asked her, the smirk on his lips proving he did not really mean to scold her.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised immediately, ducking her reddening cheeks behind her hair. “I just love this place. Its so full of stories and, and history... like you,” she noted, making him chuckle.

“Is that a polite way of calling me old?” he checked, sure she hadn’t meant it the way it sounded, but unable to resist teasing her.

“If I meant to call you old, I would say so. You know me well enough to know that,” she said definitely, leaning on the opposite side of the glass counter from where he was currently braced, his cane abandoned to one side.

“I suppose I do,” he nodded once, a little lost in her eyes for a moment until he caught himself. “In any case, work is what we came here for and work we must do,” he told her swiftly, pulling a pile of books up from under the counter.

Rose rounded the counter to come and stand beside him, peering over his shoulder, immediately drawing Gold’s attention to the fact he had not thought this through. Having her this close was definitely going to be the death of him, but there was little else he could do.

Friday night ought to have taught him a lesson. Sharing dinner, behaving like friends, he thought he could handle that. The mood had shifted later in the kitchen as they washed the dishes together. She had been so sweet, so kind, so much his Belle, and so very close. His mind had drifted to a whole other world and a kiss had seemed imminent until suddenly she bolted. This morning, Rose had been all smiles and normality, not even mentioning the kiss that never was. Gold decided to let it be, but here they were again as close as ever, and it was going to send him quite mad, he was sure.

All that was to be done was concentrate on what he was telling Rose about logging sales, facts and figures, taking inventory. She was a bright girl, she ought to take most of it in the first time, so this would not have to be repeated later. That would be a blessing in a lot of ways, and a curse in others. So close and yet so far was a kind of sweet toture that Gold wouldn’t trade for the world.

“I’m sure I don’t know how people part with things that mean so much to them,” said Rose an hour or two into her education about the shop. “They have to mean something, precious heirlooms and gifts,” she said, looking up on the high shelves in the back room where Gold had been showing her his filing system. “I’m sure I could never let such things go.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures, dear,” her employer advised. “You’d be surprised what some people will do for money.”

“But what of love?” said Rose, as she turned to look his way, head tilted to one side as she thought about it. “A treasured keep-sake by which to remember a loved one. Could you really let that go, just for money’s sake?”

Gold wasn’t sure how to answer that. He knew that nothing in this world or any other could prise his precious chipped tea cup from his hands. That would be taken over his dead body, and even then he was sure he could find some way to fight against the loss. It was his painful reminder of what almost was between himself and Belle in the far off land they had long left behind. No, no amount of money or offer of power would be enough to get him to let go, but then he was no ordinary person as everyone else in Storybrooke believed themselves to be.

“This world is full of desperate souls, Rose,” he told her softly. “Forced to do what they must to survive. Its not always the best thing, the right thing, or even the proper thing, but its all they can do.”

By now he was no longer thinking of the past they had, that she recalled nothing of. Instead his mind had spun back so many more years, to a little boy not old enough to die in war, and an old spinner who would do literally anything to save him. With tears coming unbidden to his eyes, Gold swept back through the curtain into the main part of the shop, just as the bell rang over the door. He was mildly surprised to find Mary Margaret stood there before his counter, a clipboard in her hand.

“Good afternoon, Mr Gold,” she greeted him with a smile he knew to be forced.

“Miss Blanchard,” he replied in kind. “Something I can help you with?”

“Well, I…” she began, stopping short of actually making a request when Rose appeared from behind the curtain.

“Mary Margaret,” she smiled. “I thought it was you,” she greeted her with a cheerfulness the poor woman had received from almost no-one else today. “Papa told me you were selling candles for the Miner’s Fair again this year.”

“I am,” she nodded once, a little stunned to have anyone be eager to talk to her, be it about her efforts for the fair or anything else for that matter.

“I’d love to help. Where do I sign my name?” asked Rose willingly, holding out her hands for the list and pen.

Mary Margaret handed it over without a moment’s pause and watched with wide eyes as Rose signed not just her own name, but for Mr Gold too. She dare not say a word about that, except a quick ‘thank you’ before she hurried from the store. She would leave Rose to explain her actions in peace, wondering if there was likely to be an angry explosion at any moment. Somehow Mary Margaret doubted it. If Rose’s actions were evidence of anything at all, Mary Margaret suspected it was proof that she and Mr Gold were closer than anyone ever thought before. She liked the idea that true love could win out for even the most unlikely of couples. It gave her hope for her own romance.

* * *

“You did what?” asked Mr Gold, practically twitching with the anger and frustration he was trying to hold in.

“I signed your name with mine on Mary Margaret’s list of volunteers,” Rose repeated calmly, just a little glad there was a counter separating the two of them right now – the man looked ready to explode!

“Why?” he ground out, but she showed no fear.

“Because it was a nice thing to do, and you need to start proving to people that you are not the tyrant they suspect,” she said definitely. “Anthony, you’re not a monster, and I don’t know why you seem to want everyone to think you are,” she insisted, leaning over the counter, perhaps a little too far into his personal space.

She was so very much her old self in that moment, he was seconds from calling her Belle when he realised his mistake. Whatever happened here, she was still Rose French. She did not know their past, she could not feel the same as she had then, and neither should she.

“There is simply no arguing with you, is there?” he sighed, letting all the anger go with one simple breath.

“No, there really is not,” she declared with a childish grin as she hopped up til her feet came off the floor in order to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

Gold was astounded. Perhaps he should have seen it coming, but then from the expression Rose wore, he doubted even she had known what she was about to do until it was done. A moments madness perhaps, but it had happened and there was no taking it back.

“I’m sorry, Anthony,” she apologised the moment it all sank in. “I, er… I suppose I got carried away.”

“Its quite alright, dear. No harm done,” he assured her, even as he turned away.

Rose felt herself blushing and hated it. She felt like such a silly child around Anthony lately and she couldn’t put her finger on why. Actually, the truth of the matter was that she was pretty sure she did know why, only the prospect of it scared her half to death. Falling for your employer, it wasn’t exactly classy, especially when you were only working for said employer on a slaves wages to ease your fathers debt! Rose was sure nobody could invent such a tale as this, it was so ridiculous, and yet it was her life.

Not so long ago, everything had seemed so simple. She worked in Mr Gold’s home, they barely saw each other, and when they did they were civil at best. She never thought much about their relationship, they didn’t really have one. Now things were so different. She called them friends and he agreed with her. She was Rose and he was Anthony, and suddenly they had jokes to share and were at liberty to be close to one another without panicking. Perhaps a kiss was a step too far, she saw that now, but instinct had made her do it... and she wasn’t entirely sorry.

“I feel so sorry for Mary Margaret,” she said at length, barely getting Gold’s attention from the shelf he was rearranging, for no reason Rose could see except to give himself something else to focus on.

“She made her bed and she must lie in it,” he grumbled as he continued his work, but Rose would not be put off.

“She fell in love,” she pointed out. “That can’t be a crime. I mean, of course, I understand that to have an affair with a married man is wrong, but... but what if she couldn’t help it? Love is the most powerful force there is, it has to be,” she mused. “It has the power to bind us, to control us. It wakes people from comas, it keeps people living....”

“Breaks any curse,” Gold muttered without thinking, wishing it unsaid the very next moment.

Before he let out anything else untoward, he abandoned the shelf he had been rummaging through and made to go and hide in his office, away from Rose. Unfortunately, it seemed she just wasn’t done with him yet.

“Anthony?” she called behind him. “Have you ever been in love?”

Gold bit his lip, his back still to Rose for now. How to answer such a question? He did not wish to lie, but to tell the truth seemed foolish at best.

“Once,” he said eventually, “but it could never work out between us.”

“Why?” she asked in earnest, watching the back intently since it was all she could see.

“Because... no-one could ever truly love me,” he said softly, glancing back at her with a pain in his eyes that broke Rose’s heart in an instant. “Now get your things together, I want to lock up,” he told her, turning sharply into his office.

Rose bit back the sob that tried to escape and swallowed hard. Such an awful revelation stuck her to the spot for a long moment. Nobody could ever love, Anthony Gold? It was simply untrue. She knew because she was already falling, and yet, Rose didn’t have the words to tell him so, at least not yet.


	10. Chapter 10

It was the day of the Miner’s Fair, and Mary Margaret Blanchard actually had a smile on her face. It wasn’t easy for her. Much of the town was still against her since they found out about her affair with David, but she had her volunteers for her charitable cause. They were quite the unlikely bunch, but they were all present and correct so she really couldn’t argue.

Rose French was just the sweetest person and was busily untangling fairy lights with Sister Astrid, without a care in the world. Mary Margaret wondered if she realised she had an audience at all. It was still a shock to Mary Margaret that Mr Gold had shown up. He was hardly known for his charitable side and didn’t seem to like the nuns at all, and yet when Rose signed his name, he did as she asked and came along to help. Miss French clearly had much more of an effect on Gold than even the man himself was willing to admit. Mary Margaret thought it was wonderful, it certainly gave her hope to watch the man work alongside Leroy, stacking candles onto the table ready to be sold. If he could find a way towards love, then perhaps there was still hope for her too.

“Concentrate,” she told herself then as she practically tripped over a child that went running by her, the boy’s mother casting a glare her way.

Letting her mind wander was getting Mary Margaret nowhere. She had her four volunteers, just one short since Emma had been called away on Sheriff’s business, but certainly more than she’d been expecting in the circumstances. They were here with a purpose, and she was determined to make the best of her bad situation. Picking up a box of paper garlands and balloons to be inflated, she walked on over to Rose and Astrid.

“How’s it going?” she asked with a smile that was only a little forced by now.

“Not too bad,” Rose assured her. “I mean, we have all the tangles out, we just need a little help getting them alight now.”

“I can help with that,” smiled Leroy as he appeared behind them.

Astrid was grinning all over her face as she watched the custodian take Rose’s place on the step ladder. He had already fixed one string of lights, and was bound to able to mend the other. He was her hero apparently and it made Rose and Mary Margaret both sigh to see such affection.

“I know nothing can happen with the two of them,” the teacher spoke softly to her friend, “but wouldn’t they be the cutest couple?”

“It’s as if you read the thought out of my head,” Rose readily agreed. “Poor Leroy, I’m sure he’s just misunderstood,” she insisted.

“Really?” her friend smiled a little at that. “Perhaps he’s not the only man in town that you’re understanding better than the rest of us,” she said, glancing over Rose’s shoulder as she handed her the box of decorations.

Spinning around, Rose found Anthony approaching and her smile never wavered. He was not so happy himself, and she knew it. The last thing he wanted to be doing on a cold damp morning was stacking charity candles and hanging decorations, but he was here, because she asked. There was a warm glow inside of Rose at the realisation he would do what he most hated just for her. Mr Gold cared for no-one but himself, that was what everyone thought. It was both astounding and like a kind of magic to her that she might be an exception to such a rule. Thinking of what that might mean quite took her breath away.

“Having fun?” she teased him, only glad any words came out at all when she tried to speak.

“Hardly,” he snapped half-heartedly. “Miss French, next time you have a bright idea about making me the town laughing-stock, be a dear and keep it to yourself,” he told her, not entirely serious she was sure since his severe expression failed him half way through.

“All people will think is what I already know,” she insisted as they walked along together. “That there is a good heart buried deep within that cold, hard shell you show the world. I can never understand why you want people to see you as such a bad person when its not true.”

“I do believe you would make me a saint, Rose,” he smirked, glad enough to use her first name now they were alone, even if it were not her real one.

“I wouldn’t want you to be so pure, Anthony,” she assured him. “After all, where would be the fun in that,” she practically winked at him then as she dropped her box down onto the table and proceeded to sort through it.

Gold didn’t know what to say. Every day she surprised him lately, coming out of her shell some more, becoming ever more so the Belle he had loved and lost. In the beginning, the two versions of this woman shared little more than looks and voice. Now her spirit seemed to have returned to her, her occasionally wicked humour and her boldness that he loved so much.

Still, he hadn’t a clue how she had convinced him to turn up to the Miner’s Day preparations to help set up stalls and sell candles, for the nuns of all people! If she only knew the truth, what they really were and what they had done to him. Gold knew it was pointless even thinking about it. The fairies themselves would not even recall their crimes against him, and professing hatred for nuns only raised unanswerable awkward questions, especially from Rose. There was little or no way to wriggle out of helping here today without upsetting her, and Gold couldn’t do that, not now, not for the world.

There was plenty of attention paid to him whenever anyone came by, but thankfully not as much as he might’ve received if not for Mary Margaret. He was one of just a handful that truly understood why she started her affair with David Nolan, and why it had ended so sadly. Regina must have her way, always, Gold knew that better than anyone. Just when those that had once been Snow and Charming started to find their way back to one another, in she stepped to destroy it all.

Back in their original world, the Wicked Queen might have come to him for help with what came next. Kathryn had left town, or so the rumours said, but Gold knew better. Nobody left Storybrooke, it was all part of the curse, lest the good people within found any happiness out in the realms beyond. If she was gone, then it was by Regina’s hand, and something far worse than just leaving to go to law school had taken place. Gold didn’t want to think about what exactly might’ve occurred. He was only too happy that he was not caught up in it. He had done enough unspeakable things as to make him completely unworthy of Belle, though she loved him in spite of all he was guilty of. Here in this place, Gold’s hands were relatively clean in comparison to Rumpelstiltskin, his true nature. If Rose wished to make him a good man, or pretend he was one, she was at least closer to the truth than before.

“Are you alright?” she asked then, causing Gold to realise how lost in thought he had become. “This weather can’t be helping. The damp and your poor knee,” she shook her head sadly. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve thought...”

“No matter, dear,” he told her quickly, hating any look of sorrow on her face, especially when he had been so happy a moment before. “Perhaps if I just go on inside a while, get myself a cup of tea. I’m sure I’ll be just grand.”

He was satisfied enough when the smile returned to the young woman’s lips, and he ventured towards the building for the sake of warmth and a good sit down. Truth be told, he was happy just to get out of sight, and out of the way of over-grateful nuns and such for as long as possible.

* * *

They hadn’t seen him there, Gold was sure of that as he came back into the main hall from the bathroom. The Mother Superior and Sister Astrid were in deep and animated conversation, and he had already heard the word ‘money’ mentioned. As their landlord, he had a vested interest and listened intently from enough distance that he didn’t look as if he were eavesdropping. Seemed the silly girl had wasted no end of money on wrongly ordered helium canisters, and that was to effect their ability to pay the rent. When the conversation took a turn towards speaking nicely to him about letting them off some of the cash or giving them an extension, at least Gold was ready for it.

“Excuse me, Mr Gold,” Sister Astrid came over, smiling nervously, “I was just wondering...?”

“No,” he said simply, meeting her eyes and startling her apparently with the abruptness of his answer. “Oh, I’m sorry. Were you not going to ask me to be lenient with the rent on the nun’s building, Sister?” he checked. “Because the answer to that question, no matter its form, is no,” he confirmed.

“I don’t understand,” she shook her head sadly. “I mean, you’re here to help...”

“I am here because my employee, Miss French, though it was quite the jolly jape to have a business man such as myself help out at a community fund-raiser. She’s a nice girl, I’m not quite the monster Storybrooke would have me be, so I went along with that,” he explained, leaning into her personal space on his cane. “But do not for a moment think that means I like your kind, dear, or that I am not still a man of business. You owe me rent, and I will be collecting it, in full, at the usual time,” he confirmed, moving to walk away then. “If you don’t have it, you know what you can all do.”

Gold was quite proud of himself as he strode towards the door, until he realised Rose was there. She couldn’t have heard everything that was said, but the look on her face suggested she got the gist. Sister Astrid was calling after him, crying, he was sure from the wobble in her voice, but Gold barely heard her. He just saw his darling Belle, looking at him with disappointment in her every feature.

“What have you done?” she asked him sadly.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Miss French,” he snapped at her, only because he was angry with himself for upsetting her, though he would never admit it.

“I do concern myself with it when you’re upsetting my friends,” she told him as she chased him out of the building, “and just proving to this town that you are what they think you are!”

“All I am is a man of business,” he said, spinning on his heel to glare at her. “I am a landlord who needs to collect his rents, and it is not unreasonable for me to expect deals I have struck with others to be abided by,” he told her in no uncertain terms.

Rose couldn’t argue because she knew he did have a point. Though he lived in luxury compared to some of Storybrooke’s other residents, he could eventually find himself destitute if he let everybody’s rent slide. Still, Rose could also see things from a charitable point of view. Her own father struggled with debt, it was how she came to work for Gold in the first place. She just sometimes wished that Anthony could be as kind to others as he was to her.

“You once told me you were a difficult man to love,” she said as she looked up into his eyes then. “I don’t think it has to be that way, I think you actually like it that way,” she told him sadly.

With that she walked away, back over to the stall where Mary Margaret tried her damnedest to sell candles to the residents of Storybrooke who shunned her.

Anthony Gold watched Rose go and bit his lip for fear of screaming with frustration.

“Damn this bloody day!” he muttered then, slamming his cane against the concrete before striding away as best he could.

* * *

It was a couple of hours since his confrontation with Rose, and honestly Gold was glad to be anywhere but at the damned Miner’s Fair. He had thought about leaving altogether but just couldn’t make himself do it somehow. Mostly he had stood back in the shadows watching Rose try to assist Mary Margaret in selling candles, all to no avail. It was Miss Blanchard’s new status as town pariah causing most of the trouble, and he knew before Leroy ever left to go on some door to door sales that it wouldn’t end well either. The town drunk was barely any more popular than the so-called harlot. Through it all, Rose had kept smiling, even though Gold knew he had hurt her, even though her efforts at charity seemed in vain.

Now that all else had failed, Leroy was making a last ditch attempt to raise some cash by selling Gold a boat that needed more work than it didn’t. Five thousand dollars for such a vessel would be ridiculous, three was pushing it, though Gold offered it none the less. It wasn’t meant as a kindness to the custodian or the nuns he seemed so hell-bent on assisting, only as a means to appease Rose when they spoke next and tried to make amends.

The young woman herself had been oblivious as to where the two men had gone at first and when she found out she had hoped her employer and friend had somehow had a change of heart. It was how she and Astrid came to be down at the dock, seeking out the men in their lives and smiling bright as the sun on such a misty dismal day. They thought things were working out, but they were wrong.

“C’mon, Gold,” Leroy was trying to plead with him. “Do the decent thing, huh? You get the boat and the money in good time...”

“Not interested,” he said as he turned on his heel and strode away, before Rose had a chance to ask what was going on.

Gold refused to even look at her as he left, and the poor girl was torn between running after him and staying put. She soon realised she would be needed when Astrid tripped on a tarp and uncovered so many boxes of candles. Rose hadn’t realised until this moment that Leroy had told a lie. He assured Astrid all the candles he had taken door to door were sold, it was why she had wanted to come down here, to thank him. Now she realised her mistake and she was just so upset. Rose called for her to wait but Astrid was already gone, and Leroy looked ready to throw himself in the water to drown just because he hurt her.

“Today is turning into a real mess,” Rose sighed sadly. “What happened here?” she asked then and Leroy shook his head.

“I told her I sold the candles because I knew if she realised I was making deals with Gold she probably wouldn’t like it,” he sighed. “Now she just thinks I’m a liar and a useless idiot... and I am,” he said, kicking the boxes of candles too hard.

Rose watched him for a moment, then glanced back to where Anthony and Astrid had hurried before. It was only now she realised what she ought to have known all along.

“You love her,” she said at length, a statement not a question for Leroy to answer.

He opened his mouth to speak anyway, but closed it just as fast. It was true enough. Somehow he did feel love for Astrid, even if he did know it could never happen. She was too good for him in any case, but as a nun, his wanting her was even more fruitless.

“What’s your point, sister?” he snapped at Rose without really meaning to. “You think I don’t see you making eyes at old man Gold?” he challenged. “You really think that’s gonna happen?”

“It could,” she answered back without her mind really processing her words.

She stopped short of saying anything else when she realised what she had implied. To love Anthony Gold, it wouldn’t be so impossible. He certainly was kinder to her than anyone else she had ever seen him speak to, and she did like him a lot, out-bursts of silly pride and unfounded prejudice not withstanding. To love him seemed like it ought to be impossible, and yet something inside of her flipped over each and every time she let he mind wander down that path.

“Anything is possible when you love someone,” she said eventually, a smile curving her lips without her really being able to help it. “Love is hope,” she told Leroy then. “It fuels our dreams.”

It was like a strange sense of deja vu the moment the words left her lips. Rose felt a lightness in her head and the strangest sense of having done all this before. She could not explain it, and that coupled with the rush of sudden realisation about her feelings for Anthony almost knocked her off her feet. She really could love him. Yes, she really could.

“Hey,” Leroy reached out to catch her when she looked as if she might pass out. “You don’t look so good. We should get you back to town,” he said, encouraging her arm to lock in with his own.

“Thank you,” Rose smiled as she allowed herself to lean his way a little and began walking back.

Her mind was not on the man beside her, of course. It had wandered firmly towards Anthony and that was where it was staying. The two of them really were going to have to have a conversation, clear the air. Not just about today, oh no, but about a whole rake of other things. Rose was very clear on that now, even if everything else felt entirely fuzzy and confused.


	11. Chapter 11

Rose felt somewhat overwhelmed by the response from Anthony when she arrived back at the Miner’s Fair. Leroy had offered to walk her home instead, but she had insisted on returning to the fair to help out in any way she could. Mary Margaret already felt abandoned by all her friends, it wasn’t right to add to that pain. This was what Rose said but they were not her only thoughts about going back. She was mostly thinking of Anthony.

Dear Mr Gold, who the town saw as such a monster. She couldn’t deny he played the part well enough. What kind of decent man refused help to a group of poor, defenceless nuns? Still, he wasn’t all bad, and Rose presumed he must have his reasons for being so harsh on them. There had been very little love in Anthony’s life from what she could make out. If he was never shown love and understanding, he could hardly be well-versed in showing such emotions to others.

On top of all this, Rose was thinking of her own feelings. She had known for a while now that she could like Gold better than most could manage. He treated her as special, like she was that much more worthy of his kindness than anyone else. Rose had hardly allowed herself to wonder on what that meant until the last day or two. In discussing Leroy’s feelings for Sister Astrid, it had then occurred to Miss French just exactly what her own heart might be feeling. She put up with an awful lot where Anthony was concerned, and never seriously considered walking out on him. It only almost happened once, and after that night, things had been so different between them.

Right now, Mr Gold was almost unrecognisable from the tyrant the townsfolk would paint him as. Leroy had put Rose on a chair and asked several times if she was feeling better, if she needed anything. Just as soon as Anthony realised she might be unwell he started to coddle her. Indeed, Rose was sure a mother hen made less of a fuss, but she didn’t really mind. At least it proved what she already suspected, that he really did care about her.

“We should get you home, Rose,” he insisted, as she sipped the glass of water Mary Margaret had kindly fetched.

“No, really, I’d like to stay,” she argued from her place behind the candle stall. “I’ll be fine, I just had a momentary wobble. I feel much better already,” she promised, putting her glass on the edge of the table and reaching for Anthony’s hand. “Truly, you mustn’t worry so much,” she told him with a smile.

Gold let out a breath he hardly knew he was holding. She did look better than when Leroy had first walked her over. The colour was coming back into her cheeks and at least she was smiling. Perhaps it wasn’t only her health that had him in such a state, in fact he knew that was not the whole story. He had snapped, been so angry at her and more over with himself. Then at the docks, he walked away before she ever had a chance to speak, thinking avoidance would be easier. Had he stayed, he might have been there when she felt out of sorts, he might’ve helped her. As it was he had forsaken her again, and that tore at the heart he had been so sure he didn’t have anymore.

“Anthony,” her voice cut through a million jumbled thoughts from this world and the previous one. “Are you sure you’re feeling alright? You look pale,” she advised him, doubtless about to leap up from her seat to offer it to him.

That he would not stand for and told her so.

“You stay where you are, dear,” he told her, gently squeezing the hand he still held. “I’m perfectly fine. Its been a long day and you gave me quite the scare, that is all,” he assured her with a small smile.

“I’m sorry” she apologised. “Really, I didn’t mean to worry you, or to interfere with your business...”

“Rose, forget all about that,” he told her, knowing she really had nothing to be sorry for.

If anyone should feel bad it was entirely himself to blame. Spotting another folding chair abandoned nearby, he dragged it over and sat down by Rose then. He thought about re-taking the hand he had to let go before but decided against it. Even now it felt wrong to touch her, to want to be that close to her. No matter what she said about them being friends or caring for him, Rumpelstiltskin, the monster inside the man, would not allow himself to believe she could truly love him.

“I am at least glad we helped out today,” sighed Rose as she looked towards a harassed Mary Margaret and a stall with slightly less candles piled on it than before. “I just wish there was more we could do.”

“Is that another hint about the nun’s rent, Rose?” he asked then, making her turn too quickly to look at him - a hint of a smirk on his lips suggested he was at least half-teasing her.

“Not at all,” she assured him seriously. “You were right, Anthony, I have no business meddling in your affairs. If the nun’s owe you money, then they should pay...”

“But it would please you if I helped them?” he asked, unintentionally interrupting her.

Rose wasn’t sure what to say to that. She would like to help the nuns, and she would like for Anthony to be the kind of man who wanted to be so charitable. At the same time, it wasn’t exactly his nature to be that way, and it seemed wrong to want to change him. On the other hand, if he wanted to change himself, that was hardly her fault.

Rose opened her mouth to answer but no sound came out. They both knew the answer to his question, and both knew why she wouldn’t voice it. Gold was all too aware that whilst Belle happily spoke her mind in all things, people were different here. Rose French was not quite so bold all of the time, and more mindful of causing a fuss. After the last time they spoke on this subject earlier in the day, it seemed fruitless, even ridiculous to bring it up again when they had only just now made the peace.

“Right then,” he said, without her ever having confirmed what he already knew.

Anthony got up and leant his weight on his cane, glancing around the crowds of people in the darkness lit only by fairylights and such. He had just spotted Sister Astrid and was about to head towards her when suddenly the whole area was plunged into complete darkness.

“What the devil...?” Anthony began to ask, turning to look at Rose when she laughed giddily.

“There, look,” she whispered, pointing over to the building atop which the figure of a short man stood, right beside the mains power.

There was no doubting it was Leroy and suddenly the whole situation made sense. The custodian had sabotaged the power on purpose, turning out all the lights, not just here at the fair, but probably in people’s homes too. With a lack of electric light everyone would need a candle to light their way.

“Damn fool,” Gold muttered, shaking his head, thinking of the cost to fix such things and what an idiot the man must be to think he would ever win the heart of a nun, of all people!

Rose continued to giggle like a school girl. Suddenly her hand was wrapped around Gold’s own and she was leaning her head against his arm. He glanced down at her just as she looked up to meet his gaze.

“He did it for love,” she said softly, as they shared a smile.

* * *

Rose’s strength had come back to her before long and she insisted Anthony let her help Mary Margaret, Leroy, and Astrid in selling all the candles. In the end it took all five of them, rolling up their sleeves and getting stuck in to the task at hand. By the end of the evening, the cash box was overflowing with more money than the nuns could ever need for rent, and there were smiles all around, particularly on Mary Margaret’s lips.

She thanked her helpers most graciously, Mr Gold in particular, though he was the only one she made no moves to hug. Astrid was giddy and grateful, Leroy lifted Miss Blanchard clean off her feet, and Rose was so happy she was more aglow than any candle in the place.

As the five parted ways, Anthony helped Rose into her jacket when she shivered from cold. She picked up the last candle, which she had purchased herself before the rush, and carefully lit it.

“Now we shall find our way home,” she smiled brightly, offering her arm to Gold.

It ought to have been the other way around of course, but Rose was Belle, and neither had ever been conventional. At the same time, she was everything Gold thought a woman ought to be. Kind and graceful, beautiful inside and out. He didn’t deserve her, he could not ever do so, no more in this world than the one they had called home before. Yet, she cared for him. They had developed a friendship and something suggested that more could happen between them if she had her way.

Perhaps he was reading too much into it. After all, this was how things had begun when they first met. He was Rumpelstiltskin and she was Belle, and she had proven to be the only woman who could truly love him, the beauty who could love the beast he was then. Though he was perhaps more human here and existed without magic, it did not change who he was in his heart. Perhaps it was foolish to think that being without her memory could really change Belle’s heart either. She had loved him back then; as Rose, she could love him still, though he hardly dare believe it.

“It’s been a long day,” she sighed, leaning into him a little more.

It was a strain on the man with the knee that was barely holding himself up, never mind her weight, but Gold would never complain.

“Aye, it has,” he agreed as they continued on into town, arriving at his shop where his car waited for them. “Really ought to get you home before your father thinks you’ve been abducted by the big, bad wolf,” he teased her.

Rose laughed prettily, blowing out her candle as they moved to get into the car. Anthony opened the door for her and she thanked him as she slid into her seat, waiting for him to join her. It was almost a shame to be going home, even though she was quite definitely tired and meant it when she said the day had been long. She so enjoyed all the time she spent with Anthony Gold, even though she couldn’t entirely explain. To think he had started out as her much-loathed employer, the man her father owed a small fortune. She worked for him only because she had to and regarded herself a slave in many ways. Things were so different now.

It was true that she still had to stay in his employ for the sake of Papa’s debt, but Rose no longer disliked her work, not at all. Anthony was different, but she felt altered herself just lately too. The past few weeks, things had changed in all kinds of ways and she felt herself falling.

Honestly, Rose wasn’t sure she had ever been in love before to know if that was what she was feeling, but it could be. There was a warm glow inside her whenever Anthony smiled her way or paid her a kindness of some kind. She felt positively sick when they fell out over anything and only ever wanted to make things better again. Of course they had become friends, they had both said so, but there was more, she was certain of it.

“You are very quiet, Rose,” he noted as he drove towards her house, eyes always on the road, especially when it was so dark everywhere.

“Just tired, I suppose,” she replied absently, even though she knew it wasn’t entirely true.

Mostly she was lost in thought, contemplating the nature of this odd relationship they had. Today, Anthony had proved without doubt that he cared a great deal for her. The fuss when she was not feeling well, the fact he would’ve gone so far as to extend a helping hand to the nuns in a financial sense. Honestly, the very fact he turned up today to volunteer was nothing short of a miracle, and all because of her.

As the Cadillac pulled up outside the French home, Gold shut off the engine and moved to exit the car. Rose’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Anthony, wait,” she urged him, wondering whatever she might say when he turned to her with a questioning look.

The truth was, there were no words. She had nothing she could ever say to explain what she was feeling. Sat here now with only the moonlight to illuminate them, and the near-silence of night all around, it truly was as if they were the only two who existed in the world. Rose could easily believe there was just her and Anthony and everything else had gone away, leaving just the two of them and this moment. Before she had a chance to over-think it, she leaned in closer and pressed her lips to his own.

He seemed surprised, which she might have expected, but the truth of the matter was he could not resist. Anthony Gold did have feelings for her, Rose was never more sure of it than when he kissed her back now. Her realisation was only fleeting, however, as a million other thoughts filled her head.

Inside Rose’s mind, pictures flashed and voices echoed. She saw a castle, Anthony looking so different and yet the same. A spinning wheel, a chipped tea cup. The images came faster, and her father’s voice said she could not go with the beast. Someone laughed with childish glee, a dark queen talked of curses, true loves kiss. The wheel spun, colours blended all together, and Belle, for that was her real name, proclaimed her love for her captor.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” the name fell from her lips as she pulled out of the kiss with a gasp.

Gold did not have time to react to the use of his real name, the kiss, nothing. Rose, who must by now realise she was Belle, was out of the car and running into her house before he ever had a chance to speak, or even breathe.

It made no sense. She had not known the truth before, he was certain of that. If she knew now, if the part of the curse holding her had been broken, it could only mean one thing. They really had just shared True Love’s Kiss.


	12. Chapter 12

Rose French was sure she must be going completely crazy. Even more certain was that her father and her employer must both think she had lost her mind after her behaviour this evening. It had been such a nice and pleasant day, that ended so beautifully, with a kiss that fair took her breath away. What Rose had not been ready for was the flood of images that moment of romance had brought into her mind.

It was frightening and confusing, and her first instinct had been to run and hide. Away from Anthony, past her father in the hallway of the house, proclaiming she had a headache and must go straight to bed. It was not really a lie, but it was not the exact truth either.

The only way to describe it, Rose thought, was that she had experienced a waking dream. Though she knew the people she saw behind her eyes, her Papa and Anthony, they were different somehow, the first a king and the second... they called him a beast.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she whispered the name to herself again, sat there on her bed with her knees hugged to her chest.

Rose felt so much like the little girl she had not been for twenty years now, and yet when she tried to recall her childhood, it came out blurry. She could not fix on any definite picture of herself here in Storybrooke, though she was supposed to have been born and brought up here. On thinking of those days when she was so young, her mind brought forth pictures of a castle, a boy named Gaston that she hid from and teased, and her loving father wearing a crown upon his head. They called her Belle.

When confusion set in she wanted to cry and yet Rose fought to make sense of everything her head was telling her. Turning to gaze at her desk in the corner, she suddenly had a thought. Rushing to grab up pen and paper, she scribbled down all she thought she knew of her life, all that she could clearly remember of being Belle. Though it made more sense for it to be unreal in many ways, she recalled so much more of that world than her own.

Papa was desperate, the Ogre Wars were ongoing, their village threatened to be lost. Then he had come, Rumpelstiltskin, and offered to save them all. His price had been her. The pen stilled in Belle’s hand as a shiver ran through her. It was real, and became ever more clear as her mind strung together the events. Going to live at the Dark Castle, falling in love with the man they called the beast. She and Rumpelstiltskin sharing their first and only kiss sat by his spinning wheel. It became increasingly clear and Belle’s eyes grew wider with every passing memory that gained clarity at a moment’s notice.

Dear Rumpel threw her out, afraid of what he was feeling for her, she was sure. She had met Leroy... no, he was Dreamy then, and Nova the fairy. Then Regina had taken her away. Escape came from fairy dust and a reunion with her true love followed, though he kept her at arms length even then. The only time he had allowed her close was when the storm came. He held her as the dark clouds and lightning came, as the building was torn apart around them. Belle didn’t understand that, she never had. There was a hole in her memory now, a void that sat between a dark and violent moment in a storm and being here in Storybrooke. It made no sense, and yet she was certain by now it was real.

Perhaps it was some kind of curse, though she couldn’t be certain. If it were it would certainly make sense for it to have been broken in the very moment she and Rumpelstiltskin kissed. True Love’s Kiss could break any curse and they had proven it. The question now remained, did Anthony remember he was Rumpel too? Did he know she was Belle and all that had happened before?

There was no doubt in her mind at all that she had to find out and it had to be now. Belle was up from her desk chair in a second, rushing to throw on her jacket and head outside. It mattered not that it was the middle of the night, or that her father might think her mad if he realised what she was doing. Had he all his memories too he might understand, but as it was, she could never explain to him.

She had to talk to Rumpelstiltskin, had to find out what he knew and what it all meant. He would have the answers she needed and there was no way he could deny her now, not after that kiss. It was True Love, and here he did not have to fear losing anything in order for them to be together. One thing Belle knew for certain was that there was no magic of Rumpel’s kind in this place. The only real magic here was love - that they seemed to have already proven tonight.

* * *

It was well past midnight, but Anthony Gold had not bothered going to bed. There was no way he was ever going to sleep after what had happened between him and Rose French this evening, or perhaps now he was free to simply call her Belle.

The man who was Rumpelstiltskin in his heart had been shocked enough when he suddenly found himself being kissed by the girl of his dreams. The only thing that had come as a bigger surprise was when she pulled away and spoke his true name. He knew what he thought it meant, what he wanted it to mean, but never actually got a chance to ask. She ran and honestly he couldn’t blame her. Assuming his theory was correct, Rose was now Belle again, her memories fully restored. It could not be easy for her, with two histories in her head, two names, two relationships with him as well. Rumpelstiltskin was desperate to help her, as he had been so many times before and yet he dare not try.

For a person who never seemed to be scared of anything, it was dearest sweet Belle who could strike the most fear into his heart, be he in the form of the Dark One or his human self here. He had such a fear of hurting her, of destroying her even, and of destroying himself in the process. Men like him were not meant to be loved, and yet she seemed to have those feelings for him, both when he was a monster and a man. Now came the real predicament, to work out just exactly what she recalled now and how they were to move forward as these hybrid people in love.

There was definitely no denying that he loved her, not now, not when he had responded so favourably to her kiss. She would now recall the first time that had happened, a life time ago in the Dark Castle. There was no way Rumpel could refuse his dearest love a second time, and he had no reason to fear losing his much-needed power here, for this was a land without magic in any case.

A knock on the door startled Rumpel from his reverie, and he put his glass of scotch down on the coffee table, levering himself out of the armchair. On unsteady legs he went through to the hall and checked who might be lurking beyond the door. At this time of night and with the reputation Gold had, he was wary, until he realised it was no nightmare stood out on his front porch, but a veritable dream.

“Rose, you should not be out so late,” he said deliberately, the moment he had the door open, using the name he must call her here just in case.

“Please,” she replied as he ushered her inside and they faced each other. “Call me by my real name,” she urged him.

“Belle?” he spoke it tentatively, almost as if he was testing that was what she meant.

He could scarce believe that he was right, that she really knew the truth. On top of that, she was here, willingly, and smiling at him albeit through a veil of tears.

“It is my real name, isn’t it?” she checked. “You are Rumpelstiltskin. Everything I think I know, it did happen? It is real?” she asked in real desperation, so worried she might just be going quite mad.

It was a relief to see him smile back at her.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Oh yes, everything is true, dearie.”

He wasn’t quite ready for the way she flung herself into his arms then, the pair of them overbalancing into the wall with a bump. He didn’t flinch, because he didn’t care. The wall took his weight and hers, the pain in his knee be damned. She was here, his precious Belle. She knew all and she was willing to be this close to him. It was like a dream come true after so long.

“I’m so happy you know it too,” she told him, words muffled since her face was still buried in his shoulder. “I love you so much,” she declared then, making sure to bring her head up and look him in the eye as she spoke these all important words.

He couldn’t reply, not straight away. The urge to kiss her again was too strong and he crushed his lips to hers.

“I love you too, Belle,” he promised when they parted. “But then I suppose we proved that,” he smiled a rarely seen smile as he pushed her hair off her face and just drank her in. “True Love’s Kiss breaks any curse.”

“That is the part I don’t really understand,” she admitted then, her own smile fading into a frown. “How did we end up here like this?” she asked in earnest. “I remember a storm, and then nothing more until I was Rose and you were Mr Gold, and we were here.”

It made sense of course. Rumpelstiltskin had kept the truth of the curse from Belle for fear of upsetting or frightening her. Besides which, as much as it would be easier for her not to love him, she was sure to hate him if she knew he had a hand in the evil that was coming over them all. That would be a crueller fate.

“Come on,” he took her hand and eased himself away from the wall, grateful when she dipped away to grab his fallen cane and assist him.

They went through to the living room, sitting down close together on the sofa there. She needed an explanation, no matter the late hour or all that had gone before. Rumpel owed her that much, poor confused Belle who he loved so much.

“You remember Regina, the Queen who tried to keep you from me?” he asked her gently, mindful of upsetting her further with talk of her darkest days.

“Of course,” Belle agreed with a nod. “She did this? Because of me?”

“No, dearie, not because of you, not even because of us,” he promised her, squeezing her hand. “She wanted to make Snow White suffer. They have a long, twisted history, and Regina felt the only way to get revenge was to punish the whole realm for they all sided against her and with Snow White,” he explained. “She acquired a curse and she banished us all here to Storybrooke, in a land without a magic.”

“And she lauds over us all as mayor, whilst we’re oblivious to what she really is? Oblivious to who we really are?” said Belle incredulously. “How dare she?”

“Oh, she dares a lot more than that, Belle,” Rumpel told her plainly. “She twisted that curse into its cruellest form, to make us all live in ignorance of ourselves, our lives, our loves,” he explained, putting a hand to her cheek. “We proved some things really are stronger than magic though, didn’t we?”

“There is no land without magic,” she replied with a smile, putting her hand over his at her cheek. “Love is the strongest magic there is. It’s why it could break our part of the curse, make us both remember who we were.”

Belle watched Rumpel’s face fall at those words, his fingers dropping away from her cheek. Something was wrong, and she dreaded to think what it might be. He turned away, wouldn’t look at her, and she almost feared to ask what she had said to cause such a shift.

“Rumpelstiltskin,” she all but demanded his focus. “Tell me what’s the matter,” she urged him when he glanced her way for all of a moment. “Something is, and you can tell me, whatever it is. I can’t care about it now. After everything we’re together, it can work out.”

“Not if you knew everything,” he said sadly, hating that he was scuppering his own chances with her but also knowing he could not live with her knowing only half the truth, not after all this. “Belle, the curse was modified and enacted by the Queen, but she did not conjure it in the beginning,” he said, turning cold eyes upon his love. “I did,” he told her, with a hand over his chest as if to emphasise the very important point. “I had my reasons, and they were good ones. I had not even known you then, but I never meant for you to suffer,” he promised her.

Belle didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how she was supposed to react. She hated that Regina had used everybody like this, as puppets in an evil little show. Knowing her mind had been altered by some dark, evil magic made her feel quite sick. On the other hand, she could not blame Rumpel for his part in this whole debacle. She was sure he made a great many unsavoury deals before she had known him, and there was a look caught somewhere between shame and regret on his more human features right now. He said he had good reasons for what he had done, and she believed him, though she would not ask for further details now. In time, he would tell her if he saw fit, she was certain of it. The only thing she was more certain of in this moment was her love for him.

“Rumpel, look at me,” she urged him, her hand at his arm to make him turn towards her. “I don’t blame you for what’s happened. At least we found each other, and now I know who I really am, what I really feel,” she smiled. “I have fallen in love with you twice, in two different worlds and two different guises. Our kiss brought back every memory taken from me. At this point, I hardly think even you could deny, that what we have is true love.”

“Indeed not,” he smiled back at her, unable to help himself.

“I told you once that I would fight for this love we have, whether you would or not,” she recalled as clear as anything now as she shifted closer until his arms crept around her. “It’s still true, more so than ever. Nothing Regina can do, nothing anyone can do will ever keep us apart for long.”

Rumpel couldn’t argue with her and he didn’t want to anymore. Here in this place, he did not need to worry about losing power that he did not have. He need not concern himself with Regina or the curse or anything here in this wretched town, so long as Belle was here at his side. She was one of only two people in his whole existence that had loved him, and he was certain that her help would prove invaluable in helping him find the other again.

“You asked me once to tell you about my son,” he reminded her, meeting her eyes. “I will tell you that story Belle, and so much more,” he promised her, “if you still want to hear?”

“I do,” she told him. “But right now, all I really want is for you to kiss me again,” she admitted, albeit she was blushing as she did so.

Unlike their past life when he had refused and been so angry about their romantic interlude, this time Rumpelstiltskin gave in and did just exactly what his Belle asked of him. For all the magic he had possessed in that other land, nothing made him feel as powerful as having the woman he loved in his arms, caught in a kiss that neither of them wanted to break. She was right of course, True Love was the most powerful magic that ever existed, Rumpelstiltskin had just never expected to be so lucky as to find it, until he met Belle.

The End


End file.
